


To Kill a Predator

by GalaxyHitchhiker42



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Dysfunctional Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-08-23 05:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20237701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyHitchhiker42/pseuds/GalaxyHitchhiker42
Summary: Stan gets fed up with his sister's abusive tendencies and wishes that he had a brother. Butters isn't exactly the brother that he had in mind, but he winds up sleeping on Stan's bedroom floor anyways.Things get extremely dark, extremely fast.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Here's a little something that I've been working on for a couple of months. It has taken me a lot longer than I had anticipated and went kind of in a completely different direction than I originally had in mind, but I hope you enjoy reading it! New chapters will be uploaded as I review/edit/rework them, so I can't say as to what type of upload schedule this will be. 
> 
> This is my first time posting anything on this site, so I apologize in advance for weird formatting or any other issues like that! In fact, this is my first time seriously writing a fanfic, and to be honest I have been seriously overthinking it lmao. It can get a little bit dark at times (probably more than a little bit to be honest) and additional tags or warnings may be added as they become relevant. 
> 
> This first chapter is a little bit short and pretty much just an introduction the story; future chapters will probably be quite a bit longer, but I can't really say for sure. Either way, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! :) ~

Stan was busy working on a science project when he heard a long, low growl coming from down the hallway, growing into a high-pitched shriek. He held up one of the final Lego pieces, about to place it in its designated spot, when his older sister Shelly flung the door to his bedroom open. 

“TURD!!!!” She screamed. “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT STEALING MY SHIT?” Stan could see the spit fly from her lips as she yelled at him. He rolled his eyes, finally putting the Lego where it was supposed to go. His calmness fueled her fury and she shrieked again. “Give me back my charger!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Shelly?” Stan muttered lowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your charger doesn't even work for my fucking phone.” 

“Well I don't think it grew legs and walked away,  _ Stanley _ !” She barked at him, her lisp even more pronounced than normal in her furious anger. 

“Stranger things have happened in this goddamn town,” Stan muttered, picking up another piece and surveying where it should go. 

“What did you say, twerp?!” Shelly barked, stomping over to where he sat with his science project. “What the fuck are you building anyway?” She glared down at his work, her eyes like narrowed slits. 

“ _ Stranger things have happened _ ,” Stan hissed at her through clenched teeth. “And it's for my science homework, I have to build a--”

Before Stan could finish explaining to her that he was required to construct a model of a Buckyball for his homework, Shelly raised her foot and with a heave and a grunt she kicked down the model, smashing his almost completed work to pieces. Stan held one of the very last pieces in his hand, his mouth agape as he took a moment to process what had happened. 

“Aww, come on!” He yelled after a moment. “Are you serious? That took me all fucking night!”

“That's what you get for taking my stuff!” Shelly replied matter-of-factly, her anger clearly dissipated after she had taken it out on the Legos that now lay strewn across the floor. She turned and began to search through Stan's things to find her phone charger as Stan seethed on the floor. “Where the fuck is it?! MOOOOOOM!” 

“What is it, honey?” Sharon Marsh's voice sounded tired and defeated as it came up the stairs into Stan's room. 

“Stan stole my charger and now he won't tell me where it is!”

“Shelly, I'm pretty sure you have it plugged in by the couch in the living room,” their mother called up the stairs. “Yours is the one with the pink cord, right?” 

Shelly stopped for a moment, then clearly remembered how she must have left it there. “Oh yeah! Thanks mom!” She called as she ran out of Stan's room and bounded down the stairs without so much as an apology. 

Stan's fists were clenched so hard that he could feel his nails digging into his palms. He relaxed his hands and stared weakly at the destroyed Buckyball. All motivation to complete his science project was gone. He sighed and stood up from where he sat, feeling the anger rise in him. To calm himself down, he decided to go outside to the backyard and sit where it was cool. 

The crisp fall air felt therapeutic as he flung the back door open and sat down on the porch, dangling his feet over the edge. The sky was dark and a few stars dotted the black expanse. If only there wasn't so much light pollution; he remembered going on hunting trips with his Uncle Jimbo and seeing a fully decorated night sky. Uncle Jimbo would point out all of the constellations, even some that he had “discovered” himself. Now Stan couldn't see any of those constellations. 

He could feel the anger leave him but the feeling of indignation lingered. Having an older sister was Hell, especially one who would routinely take out her awful PMS on him. She could be horrible enough during the rest of the month, but when that certain time came she could be downright unbearable. It just wasn't fair. Cartman was an only child, and Kyle had an adorable baby brother. Kyle was a pretty good big brother to his adopted brother Ike, or at least tried to be, and Kenny was an amazing big brother to his little sister Karen. Of course Stan was the one with the older sister who delighted in torturing him. 

Stan got up from where he sat and lay down in the middle of the yard, feeling the cool dry grass calm him as he stargazed. That was the best part about the hunting trips with his uncle; he was never really big on the whole “killing animals” thing as a real animal lover, and so he hadn't gone in quite some time, but he really did enjoy the fact that being in a secluded forest allowed for the stars to shine through. But even though there weren't many stars out tonight, despite the clear sky, the calm black sky soothed him. 

That was when he saw it; a bright streak of light darted across the sky like a soaring spear, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared. Stan held his breath as he realized that what he had just seen was a shooting star. He had only witnessed a shooting star one other time, and that had been with Kyle. The pair wished that they would stay the best of friends forever and so far that wish had proven true. 

His anger at his sister still prominent in his mind, he silently wished that he had a fucking brother, one who didn't get their period every fucking month and who wouldn't fucking treat him like shit constantly. He felt silly, and he knew that unlike his and Kyle's wish from years ago, this one would never come true. But still it felt cathartic to make that wish and fantasize about having a cool older brother, either in Shelly's place or to deter Shelly from pestering him so much. He smirked as he pictured a boy that looked just like him, but a few years older, lifting Shelly up by her collar and screaming at her to leave Stan the hell alone. She would really be shaking in her shoes, he thought with a chuckle. 

Feeling much better, he decided to go back up to his room and finish that stupid Buckyball.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Stan sat at the table eating a bowl of cereal before school. Shelly sat across from him with her own bowl of cereal, and Stan kept his Buckyball close to him to protect it from her destructive tendencies. However, Shelly was too busy scrolling through her phone to pay any attention to Stan or his dumb science project. 

Sharon talked animatedly on the phone in the kitchen, and Stan wondered just how in the world she could be so chipper so early in the morning. Curiosity got the best of him as he eavesdropped on the conversation to see who in the world she was so excited to talk to, or at least who she was pretending for. 

“Oh, of course, he is such a good little boy,” she said. “We wouldn't mind that one bit. I can't imagine he would cause any trouble.” Stan's eyebrows furrowed as he set his spoon down, not wanting his crunching to prevent him from hearing her speak. “Oh, well either way we would love to have him here. I'm just surprised he doesn't want to go with you.” Alright, who was she agreeing to babysit? “Absolutely, he can come over tonight and get settled in. That way you guys can catch your flight tomorrow morning without having that on your minds. No, no, the short notice isn't a problem at all. We can iron out the details later.” Soon Sharon was hanging up the phone and coming out to the table to have a seat beside Stan. 

“Who was on the phone, Mom?” Stan knew it was kind of rude to ask that question but not knowing who would be staying there was driving him crazy. He knew it wasn't Kyle, because his family was not going anywhere and his mother wouldn't have put on her “customer-service-like” voice to talk to Sheila. And it wasn't Cartman because Stan was sure there was no way she would be so willing to let Cartman stay the night (or longer) there, much less refer to him as a “good boy.” And Kenny's parents were too poor to go on vacation anywhere, much less pay for flight tickets. 

“That was Linda Stotch,” his mother informed him with a sweet smile. Stan's heart sank. “She and Stephen are leaving tomorrow to stay in Los Angeles with some family for a week, and she was wondering if Butters could stay here while they were gone. I told her it would be no problem.”

Suddenly, Stan's appetite had vanished. “Why didn't he want to go with them?” He asked, instantly aware of the whine and annoyance evident in his voice. He didn't really hate Butters, but somehow the idea of having him staying there for a week didn't sound like Stan's idea of fun. He may no longer have been the dorky Melvin he had been before, but he still was a little awkward and nerdy. 

“She wasn't really sure why, I guess he just begged not to go with them. He told her he really didn't want to miss any school.” 

Stan shrugged his shoulders. He could see Butters being enough of a dork to actually want to go to school. What he couldn't understand was how the prospect of going to school every day could be better than visiting warm, sunny California for a week with no school. But that kid could be a weirdo, he supposed. “Why is he staying here though? There is nowhere else for him to go?” 

Sharon raised an eyebrow at her son. “I don't see why you have a problem with him staying here, Stanley. And if you must know, you weren't his first choice either. But she said Stephen was worried that if they sent him to stay with the McCormicks, then Butters would come back poor, and they would have no choice but to ground him.” Stan couldn't help but laugh at that, and Sharon cracked a smile as well. The Stotches weren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, but then again, who was in this godforsaken town? “And there was no way that they would let him stay at Cartman's house for a week. So you were his next suggestion.” 

“Alright, alright,” Stan said, quickly finishing up his cereal. He would have to go out to the bus stop soon. 

  
~  
  


“Dude, weak!” Cartman yelled, laughing, when Stan mentioned to his three friends once they’d arrived at school that Butters would be staying at his house for a week. “I bet his parents are finally getting rid of him for good, and aren't ever gonna come back from California! Ah, you guys are so screwed!”

“Shut up, you stupid fatass. His parents would be arrested for child abandonment and would go to jail. They can't just leave Butters at Stan's house,” Kyle reminded him.

“Not if they run away to Russia like Edward Snowden. What's Russia gonna do, extra dyke them back to the United States?” Cartman laughed hard at the mental image. “Putin would be too scared of getting grounded again!”

Kyle rolled his eyes so roughly that it almost looked painful. He muttered under his breath, “It’s _extradite_ , you fucking idiot.”

“Cartman, you're so retarded. As if Butters’ parents hate him so much that they are gonna run away to Russia just to get rid of him,” Stan said, rolling his eyes as well. Being around Cartman sure can give one’s eyes a workout. 

“Heya, fellas!” Butters cheerfully greeted the boys as he walked over to them, his ever-present smile gracing his face. 

Cartman was still laughing so hard that he had to walk away. 

“Hey Butters,” Stan said, holding the Lego platform that held the Buckyball. 

“Oh geez, I wonder what's gotten into Eric,” Butters observed, watching Cartman laugh so hard as he walked that he kept bumping into his classmates in the hall. 

“It's nothing,” Kyle quickly replied. “So, I heard that you'll be staying at Stan's house for a week,” he began, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, it's gonna be real fun! Ain't it Stan? A slumber party every night for a whole week!”

Stan suddenly found his Buckyball incredibly interesting. “Oh yeah, it sure will,” he replied with a polite chuckle. Just the fact that Butters referred to it as a “slumber party” reassured Stan that this was going to be the longest week of his life. He imagined himself waking up in the morning to find Butters’ arm around him, just as he had when they were saving the baby cows. 

“So your parents are going on vacation without you?” Kyle asked him, a little pity evident in his voice. “My parents would feel too guilty to go anywhere without Ike or me.” Stan could just hear Cartman's comment about how of course they would, they're Jews, they would be cheap enough to leave their kids behind to save a little bit of money. He almost felt guilty that the comment had popped into his own head, even though he didn't really agree with that idea. 

“W-well, I kinda begged them to not take me with them. I just didn't really feel much like goin’.” 

Kyle and Stan shared an unconvinced look. 

The bell rang, signaling that it was time for them to head to class. Butters made his way with his books down the hall, calling back to Stan that he would see him later and how he was super excited for their sleepover. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It truly makes my day and I really appreciate the encouragement :) This chapter is a little short again, but future chapters will likely be longer lol. Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Shortly after Stan arrived home from school, pleased with himself for the compliments he had gotten on his science project, the doorbell rang. He got up from the couch to follow his parents as they answered the door. There Butters stood with a duffel bag in one hand and a sleeping bag tucked under his other arm, an over-emphasized smile on his face. Behind him stood his parents, and his mother had a hand laid gently on his shoulder. 

“Hiya, Mr. and Mrs. Marsh! Thanks so much for havin’ me!” He said sweetly through a wide smile. It almost sounded rehearsed to Stan's ears. 

“Welcome, Butters, make yourself at home,” Sharon greeted with a similar tone. “Stan, why don't you take Butters’ things to your room?” 

Stan bit his lip to keep from protesting. They had a perfectly fine spare room, why the hell couldn't Butters stay there? But Stan knew it would be rude to ask that question, especially now. So he nodded and went to retrieve the blond's things. He took them upstairs to his room while Butters stayed behind to say goodbye to his parents. He dropped the stuff down to the floor several feet away from his bed, as he was concerned that if he set them by his bed then Butters would take that as an invitation to sleep right beside him. 

When Stan made it back downstairs, Linda was in the middle of giving Butters a tight hug. “Oh, Butters, we are going to miss you so much. We'll make sure to call you every day. Now you be a good boy for Mr. and Mrs. Marsh!” She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before letting go. Stan couldn't imagine how embarrassed he would be if his own mom kissed him in front of a bunch of other people, yet Butters just accepted it like there was nothing weird about it, smiling tenderly at his mom.

“If Butters does anything he should be grounded for, make sure to let us know right away,” Stephen reminded them, his tone very stern. Butters’ smile faded away and his knuckles pressed together almost instinctively. “And don't be afraid to ground him yourselves.”

“I'm sure that won't be necessary,” Sharon curtly assured them. 

“Yeah, Stan'll keep the boy in line, won't ya, son?” Randy said, with a gentle, joking punch to Stan's shoulder. 

“Yeah, sure,” Stan replied, eyeing Butters’ concerned look. 

“Aw geez, I'll be a good boy Dad, I promise I will,” Butters said, his hands instantly flying behind his back, clasping together. “And make sure to tell Aunt Nellie and Uncle Budd hi for me, and that I love them an awful lot.” 

“We definitely will, Butters. We love you so much, and we'll see you in a week!” Linda said as Stephen ruffled his son's hair. The adults all said goodbye to one another and the Marshes wished the Stotches a safe and pleasant trip. When the door closed and it was clear that Linda and Stephen were gone, Butters visibly relaxed. 

“Well Butters, I hope you like cheeseburgers,” Randy said. “The warm weather won’t be hanging around for too much longer, so I thought I’d fire up the grill for one last cookout.” 

“Oh boy, cheeseburgers are my favorite!” Butters just about jumped for joy. Stan rolled his eyes; he felt like he had found himself in an old family-friendly sitcom. But if he had to be honest, cheeseburgers did sound really good for dinner. And he would never admit it, but he almost sort of wished that he could get that excited about little things. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been that excited for anything. 

Before dinner, the boys made their way upstairs to do their homework. Stan had forgotten how smart Butters really was, and how he used to have the blond boy tutor him not so long ago. When Stan asked him for help as he struggled with understanding his math homework, Butters was more than eager to help him, and explained things in a way that Stan had never considered before. He almost felt the light bulb go off in his head. 

“I really appreciate you helping me with my homework, man,” Stan said. “You could be a teacher someday.” 

Butters shrugged. “I like helpin’ people,” he replied. “Just as long as you're not like Eric and just wanna copy my homework.” 

“Why are you friends with Cartman, anyway? He is always using you for everything and he's not very nice to you. You don't deserve a friend like that.” 

Butters raised an eyebrow. “Well, why are you guys all friends with Eric then? It's not like he's nice to you guys.” 

“Well, you're too nice and you do whatever he tells you to do. Even when you know it will just get you in trouble. We've been friends with Cartman for forever and we know how to say no to him. And I guess we have all just been through a lot together. It would be strange not to have him as a friend,” Stan reasoned. “But you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself.” 

Butters looked away and started bumping his knuckles together. “Y-yeah, I guess so, I mean I been working on it and doin’ better but I got some work to do still.” 

“Dinner's ready, boys!” Randy called up the stairs. Stan leapt up quickly from his bed while Butters jumped up from his spot on the floor and they ran to the backyard to eat.

Randy was decked out in a chef's hat and apron as he served the cheeseburgers from the grill. He normally would have been embarrassed by Randy's “extra” attitude, but Butters thought it was the greatest thing, so Stan didn't really mind. They all sat at the picnic table in the backyard as they had their burgers, fries, and some lemonade. The food was absolutely delicious, and Stan couldn't help but feel a little jealous that his parents would go above and beyond so much for their little guest. 

His parents focused mainly on Butters, asking him all kinds of questions about what kinds of food he liked to eat, what he liked to do, and what his morning routine was like. They asked him about his parents’ vacation and what his aunt and uncle were like. The little boy went on and on about his Aunt Nellie, how kind and loving she was and how she would always spoil him when he would visit. 

“It sounds like you really adore your aunt,” Sharon observed. “How come you didn't want to go visit her? I bet she would have loved to see you.”

Butters suddenly got quiet. “W-well, I… I just didn't want to miss any school, and well I was a little bit worried about flying out there. And she told me she wanted to come visit us soon, just her, so I thought I could wait to see her then.” He looked down at the table, holding the rest of his burger in his hand, not appearing eager to eat the rest. 

Sharon and Randy shared a concerned look. “Well, I'm sure you and Stan will have a lot of fun together, won't you, Stan?” Randy asked, changing the subject. 

Stan nodded as he chewed a large bite of his burger. “Yeah,” he replied nonchalantly.

~

  
  


Later that night, after all of their homework was done, Randy informed them that he would start a little fire for them so that they could make some smores in the backyard. It was still warm, he reasoned, and warm weather should never be wasted. Stan began to wonder why the hell his parents were trying to show off for Butters so much, but was still excited for some tasty snacks. 

Randy offered to let the boys help, but Butters refused, saying that if his parents found out he started a fire then he would be grounded for six months. The two boys sat nearby as they watched Randy get the fire going. As dark was approaching, the air was getting a bit cool, but it was still warmer than expected, and the fire would keep them nice and comfortable. 

The fire started out as a few embers, then slowly it grew into a respectable, crackling blaze. Sharon brought out the marshmallows, chocolate bars, and Graham crackers, and the boys got to work toasting their marshmallows just as dark was enveloping the neighborhood. They sat close to the fire to keep warm. 

“Gee, Stan, you guys sure do a lot of fun things,” Butters remarked as he kept pulling his stick away from the fire to check his marshmallow. 

“We don't really do this all the time,” Stan replied. “We all just wanted to make you feel welcome, I guess.” By “we” he mainly meant his parents, as none of that had really occurred to Stan. 

Butters smiled and checked his marshmallow again. It was lightly browned all around, and he deemed it ready to eat. He prepared his Graham cracker and chocolate with the stick balanced between his legs. Stan decided his was ready too, though his was far darker, and soon they were munching on their smores together. 

Stan noticed that tonight the sky seemed to be peppered with a few more stars than the night before. There still weren't enough to point out the different constellations, not even the ones his Uncle Jimbo had discovered, but the sky was still pretty. His eyes glided across the sky, admiring the twinkling lights as he savored his snack. 

“W-whatcha lookin’ at Stan?” 

“Just the stars.” Stan's eyes didn't look away as he took another bite of his smore. 

Butters smiled and craned his neck to enjoy the stars too. “I like lookin’ at the night sky too. Sometimes there's not much else to do when I'm grounded.” 

Stan gave him a sad smile. “I used to love going on hunting trips with my Uncle Jimbo because we would always go into the forest where it's darker and you can see so many more stars that way. The sky is really full of them, but you can't really see that many in town because the lights drown them out. But I like stargazing sometimes because he would point out all of the constellations to me.”

Butters smiled, but then it faded away in thought. “Was it ever creepy going into the woods with your uncle?” He asked innocently, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Stan's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded. “Sometimes. I mean, there are a lot of wild animals in the woods, and I was younger when I would go with him so I was still scared of the dark. But I knew he would protect me, so I didn't worry too much. And we would usually go with his friend Ned, and Kyle would tag along a lot too, so it was always fun.” 

Butters was quiet as he finished his smore. Then he put another marshmallow on his stick, and Stan followed his lead. Their eyes turned back to the stars as their marshmallows roasted. “Have you ever seen a shooting star?” Butters asked suddenly, a bit of his usual bubbly personality returning. 

Stan smiled as he turned his stick. “That's funny you should ask, because I saw one last night. That was my second one. My first one was when Kyle and I were camping with Uncle Jimbo a long time ago, and we wished that we could be best friends forever.” 

“Wow, I saw one last night too! We musta seen the same one!” Butters said excitedly as his marshmallow caught on fire. Shocked, he dropped his stick and the marshmallow fell into the flames. He pouted before he continued. “Last night I was grounded so I was looking out the window at the sky. I couldn't really see any stars, but just as I was about to look away, I saw the shooting star! I ain't never seen one before so I was really happy, and I made a wish! Did you make a wish, Stan?” 

Stan pondered the coincidence that he and Butters both happened to see the same shooting star the night before. “Yeah, but if you tell someone your wish, it won't come true!” He reminded Butters with a smile. “I only told you the wish I made with Kyle because I'm pretty sure that ours came true.” He blew on his marshmallow and slid it off the stick with the rest of his smore. “What were you grounded for, anyway, if you don't mind me asking? Jesus Christ, you're always grounded.” 

“Sometimes I'm not,” Butters protested. “But I got grounded for hollerin’ at my dad. I told him that I wasn't going to California and that's that.” Butters punctuated that with a small punch to his palm. “Everyone's always telling me to stick up for myself and that I don't have to do things that I don't want to do, and then when I try, I get grounded. He told me that I was going on vacation with them to see my aunt and uncle because they love me and want to see me and I said well Aunt Nellie can come see me when she comes to stay. He asked me, ‘Well, what about your Uncle Budd? He loves you too,’ and I said to Hell with Uncle Budd. And that's when I got grounded.” Butters clenched his fists tightly as he told Stan about what had happened. He even trembled a bit.

Stan frowned as he chewed his smore. Butters was such a carefree, forgiving person that his uncle must have done something very bad for Butters to feel that way about him. Hell, Cartman still had Butters’ loyalty after all those years of him abusing the blonde's trust. “Wow, your uncle must not be a very good person for you to hate him that much,” Stan commented. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know what had happened. But where had he heard the name Uncle Budd before? 

“I'm just glad they didn't make me go. They just grounded me without dinner, then before I went to sleep my dad came in and said if I really didn't want to go to California then I didn't have to. Mom and Dad sure must have felt bad because they let me come out of my room and have ice cream.” Butters smiled. 

“Wow, did you wish you weren't grounded anymore or something?” Stan said with a laugh. 

“No, actually, and I still don't know why they ungrounded me. But I can tell you what I wished for because part of me thinks it's coming true already! Well, being grounded gives me a lot of time to think about stuff and all I could really think about was how lonely I was. And loneliness is probably the worst feeling to have, because when you're lonely you don't really have anyone to share the bad times with. When you have somebody around you can go to them with your problems and they can be there for you. But when you're lonely, it’s because there isn't anyone to make you feel better. So when I saw the shooting star I wished that I had a brother or sister. Maybe if I did then my parents wouldn't be so harsh on me. And if they were then I would have someone to share the bad times with. But being an only child isn't easy because when your parents are mad at you like mine usually are at me you don't have any other family members to make you feel better.” 

Stan could feel his heart sink into his stomach. How fucking sad, was all that he could think. He suddenly was very happy that his parents had decided to welcome Butters with such open arms. 

“You know, Butters, I kinda wished for something like that too. My sister was being a bitch so I wished that I had a brother instead.” 

Butters smiled widely. “Gee, Stan, that's real funny that we both wished we had a brother, and now it's sort of like we are brothers! It's like our wishes came true!” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Stan said, shoving the last bit of his smore into his mouth. Butters wasn't exactly the brother that Stan had in mind when he made his wish, but if the idea made Butters happy, then he was okay with it. 

The two boys decided on one more smore each before it was time to head back inside. As they were enjoying the last treat of the night, Butters suddenly grabbed Stan's arm and pointed at the sky. Stan gasped when he realized that once again, a glowing light streamed across the sky. His eyes followed it as it rocketed out of sight. “Whoa,” he marveled around a bite of his snack. 

“Make a wish, Stan!” It wasn't until then that Butters let go of the dark-haired boy's arm, and he bowed his head as though he were praying. Stan could hardly hear his voice as he mumbled out loud, and he replayed the sounds in his head to see if he could decipher Butters’ wish. But then he decided on a wish of his own; silently, he wished that he could be the “brother” that Butters needed right now. He almost felt silly as soon as the thought entered his mind, but the slight embarrassment quickly faded. 

Soon after, Stan was climbing into bed as Butters set up his sleeping bag just a few feet from his bed. They said their good nights, and Butters’ repetitive yawning indicated that it wouldn't be long before he was out like a light. And soon he was; Stan could hear his steady breaths and tiny snores. As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he replayed Butters’ voice after the shooting star had made its appearance. His breathing hitched when it suddenly became clear to him. 

_ “I wish Uncle Budd couldn't hurt me no more.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again so much for reading! I really appreciate all your kudos and comments, they really keep me going lol. Again, I would love to know what you think, and I hope you are all enjoying my story!


	4. Chapter 4

“Stan and Butters sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in a baby carriage!” Cartman's voice rang throughout the bus as he laughed at his own joke, which was amusing to no one else riding the bus. 

Stan groaned and leaned his head back on the seat behind him. He hadn't slept well at all the night before. Normally he had no issues sleeping at night, but he couldn't get what Butters had told him the night before out of his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about what the hell Butters’ uncle could have done. 

Butters had obviously slept well. He woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and scarfed down the waffles that Sharon had prepared for the kids for breakfast. Stan himself was stuffed to the brim with waffles, which he much preferred over his usual bowl of cereal, and that was probably the only thing keeping him from feeling like complete shit. 

“Shut the _ fuck up_, Cartman!” Kyle shrieked at him from a couple seats up, across the aisle from the fat boy. Kenny sat beside him and also yelled at Cartman in his muffled voice. 

“You guys are assholes! I'm just celebrating the love that Stan and Butters share. What's wrong with two young boys in love? You guys didn't care when it came to Tweek and Craig!” 

Kyle continued to yell back at Cartman, deconstructing his entire argument. Stan just rolled his eyes; if only Kyle would realize that this is what Cartman wanted, to argue. All the redhead was doing was feeding the troll. “And finally, Stan and Butters can't have a baby. They're both boys, you moron,” Kyle finished. 

“Obviously you don't understand jokes, you filthy Jew. But that's not a surprise. And how are you so sure that Butters isn't secretly a girl? Hmm?” 

“I think you would know better than the rest of us, fatass. Considering you put his penis in your mouth and took a picture of it, then decided to show it to the whole class!” 

Laughter at Cartman's expense erupted throughout the bus. Stan couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Butters squirmed uncomfortably in the seat next to Stan.

“You would remember that, Kahl. You probably jack off to that mental image every night, wishing that that penis had been yours!” Cartman's face was a deep red as he yelled back at Kyle. 

“Oh, you wish that I wished that!” Kyle screamed. 

Ah, just your average bus ride, Stan thought to himself. While Butters was staring out the window, most likely wishing that he was anywhere but there, Stan took the opportunity to pull his phone out and send Kyle a text. “Does the name Uncle Budd ring a bell?” He quickly sent the message and locked his phone. 

Stan watched as Kyle pulled his phone out of his pocket, checked the message, and turned around to give Stan a questioning look. “I'll explain at school,” Stan mouthed to his friend, and Kyle nodded. 

Once they had arrived at school, Stan hung back with Kyle at his locker as the hallway began to filter out. He looked all around to make sure that Butters was nowhere to be found, at least. When the coast was clear, he asked Kyle if he remembered anything about Butters having an Uncle Budd. 

Kyle thought for a moment, biting his lip as he pulled a textbook from his locker. “Isn't that the one that's married to his Aunt Nellie? I think they live in California. Are they the ones his parents are visiting?” 

“Yeah,” Stan replied. “From the sounds of it, Butters didn't want to go out there because of that guy. The name kind of sounded familiar to me but I can't really remember why.” 

“Remember when Cartman dressed up like a robot to prank Butters, and ended up going on vacation with him? I'm pretty sure those are the people they went to see. So maybe you could ask Cartman if he remembers anything about his uncle.” 

Stan nodded. “I didn't even think of that, dude. I'll ask Cartman when I get the chance if he noticed anything strange about that guy.” 

He found the opportunity to ask Cartman later that day in the bathroom. “Hey, Cartman, remember when you wore that robot costume and tricked Butters? Was it his Uncle Budd that you guys went out to visit?” Stan asked as he focused on doing his business at the urinal. 

He heard the sound of Cartman sharply zipping his pants. “Why do you wanna know?” Cartman's voice was low and somewhat serious. 

“I was just wondering, you know, if that guy seemed a little strange to you,” Stan explained. He zipped his own pants and made his way to the sink.

Cartman took a moment to respond, staring down at his shoes as he stood at the sink. “You could say that,” Cartman replied. His voice was low and quiet. 

“Well, like, how so? What made him seem strange?” 

Cartman looked towards the door. “I don't know, man, I just really don't want to talk about it.” 

“Come on, you must have something you can say,” Stan pressed. “I was just sorta concerned about the fact that Butters really didn't want to go out there because of that guy, considering he just adores his aunt. It must have been something big to make Butters too scared to go out there.”

Cartman closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you remember when Chef finally came back after he spent time with that club, and everyone thought he had turned into a pedophile?” He began. Stan nodded. Just as he was about to continue, the door opened up and Butters walked into the bathroom. 

“Hey fellas,” he greeted, wandering over to the urinal and getting into his usual stance, pulling his pants down to his ankles and lifting up his shirt. Stan returned the greeting while Cartman left the bathroom quickly. He watched the fatter boy leave, his concern only growing even more. 

  
  


“So does Cartman think he's a pedophile or something?” Kyle asked with a raised eyebrow as he and Stan sat in a quiet corner of the library. 

“I'm not sure where he was going with that, but that's really all he said,” Stan replied. “He's been avoiding me all day and won't answer any of my texts. But the way I see it, something must be really wrong for Cartman to not want to say anything.” 

Kyle rested his chin in his hands, appearing deep in thought. “Well, have you thought about just asking Butters why he doesn't like his uncle? Instead of trying to just figure it out yourself?”

“I don't know, dude, I feel weird asking him. I feel like he wouldn't want to tell the whole story anyway. He just acts weird whenever anyone asks him about it.”

“Well, he obviously felt comfortable enough to tell you all that he did last night. Maybe he'll open up to you some more. I feel like the fact that he has told you so much already means that he wants to talk about it with someone.” 

Stan shrugged. “I suppose you're right. Maybe I'll ask him tonight, when it's just me and him.” 

Kyle nodded. “I did just think of something though. When Cartman mentioned the whole Chef thing… remember how everyone thought he was a pedophile when it was just that fruity club that scrambled his brains? And we knew that Chef wasn't a pedophile, but this detective came in and he had this doll. He was doing all kinds of weird sexual stuff to it and kept asking us if Chef ever did any of those things.” 

“God, don't remind me,” Stan groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, now that I think of it, I remember Butters saying something and he mentioned his uncle. Something like, ‘My Uncle Budd did that to me!’”

Stan's eyes widened in shock. “Are you sure? What the fuck, if he said that then why did nothing come of it?”

“I think that's how it went. And you're right, I don't know why it just got brushed over. But I think you really should talk to Butters tonight to see what you can get him to admit. And we'll have to get Cartman to talk too. Maybe he saw something when he was staying there.” 

Stan felt sick to his stomach. He hoped that it was all a big misunderstanding, but the idea that Butters had potentially admitted to being molested in front of everyone and that not a single person had done anything about it sickened him. And damn it, he wasn't going to sit back and let it happen again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading and leaving feedback on my work! It really means the world to me that you all take the time to do so. This chapter was a bit short again, but the next chapter should be up soon and will be a bit longer and have a bit more of a serious tone.


	5. Chapter 5

Stan had absolutely no idea how he was going to bring up the topic to Butters. The blond boy was in a very cheerful mood, like always, and Stan didn't want to ruin it. But he did want to help that boy somehow, and pretending like nothing was wrong was not going to take care of anything. Currently, Butters was trying to explain how to divide two fractions, but Stan found himself unable to focus.

"Maybe we should just work on this later," Stan suggested.

"Well, maybe if you look at it this way-"

"Dude, can I ask you something kind of serious?" Stan interrupted. He knew that if he didn't ask now and get the question out of the way, then he never would.

Butters stared at Stan, stunned. "W-well, okay, I-I guess," he replied. Suddenly, his phone started ringing, and he reached across the bed to grab it. "Oh boy, it's my mom! She's facetiming me." He slid his finger across the screen then moved back to his spot on the bed beside Stan, allowing him to be on the call as well. "Heya, Mom!"

"Hi, boys. Just calling to let you know that we've made it to your Aunt Nellie's," came his mom's soft voice. Nellie peeked over Linda's shoulder and waved excitedly. She looked a lot like Linda, but a lot more fun, Stan thought. She reached for the phone and snatched it up.

"Oh, there's my handsome nephew!" She gushed. "I just wanna give you a big hug. You get handsomer every time I see you."

"Aw, shucks, Aunt Nellie. This is my friend, Stan!" Stan waved and gave a polite smile. "His family let me stay with them while Mom and Dad are gone."

"Oh, well that sure is nice of them. I just wish you could have came with your Mom and Dad! I really wanted to take you sightseeing again. I couldn't wait to take you to the La Brea Tar Pits Museum."

Butters frowned. "I can't wait for you to come stay with us soon! It'll be so much fun!" He said, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Oh, I hope that I still can. It's a little bit up in the air right now. But I will try my best, don't you worry!"

"I really hope you can, Aunt Nellie, I've really been looking forward to it!" Stan watched as Butters put on the saddest puppy-dog-eyes. He could almost see his aunt's heart melting.

"Oh, I love you so much Butters. I just want to reach right through the screen and drag you right through it," she said, laughing. "Oh, your Uncle Budd is here, I'll let you talk to him," she said quickly, passing the phone away.

A gruff, older looking man appeared on the screen. At first, he looked rather approachable and kind, with friendly eyes and noticeable smile lines on his face. But then Stan remembered his suspicions and the face instantly appeared silently sinister. "Well, if it isn't my favorite nephew," Uncle Budd called. "Your aunt is right, you sure are growing into a nice-looking young man. Who is that with you?"

Butters shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Hi Uncle Budd," he muttered, his voice sounding almost zombie-like. Any trace of a smile was completely gone. "That's my friend, Stan." Stan waved politely, but instantly wanted to hide from the phone's camera.

"Well, hello there Stan. I hope you boys had a good day at school. Say, how is the weather out there in Colorado? I'm sure it's nowhere near as nice as LA. Today would have made a perfect beach day."

"It's okay," Butters replied, shrugging. It was then that Stan noticed that he wouldn't look his uncle in the eye, even through a phone screen.

Suddenly, Stephen appeared over Budd's shoulder. His smile actually looked pleasant and warm. "Hey, son. You better be behaving yourself!" He reminded Butters.

"I've been real good, Dad, honest!" Butters said proudly, some of his cheeriness returning.

Linda took her phone back, and all of the adults said their goodbyes. Butters set his phone face-down on the bed and started twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"Is everything okay?" Stan asked after a moment. He began putting his books away, absolutely no longer in the mood to even think about homework.

"Yeah," Butters said quietly. An obvious lie.

Stan raised an eyebrow. "You can tell me if something is bothering you. I'm here to listen to whatever you need to talk about. You can trust me."

Butters looked away, his hands folded in his lap. He was quiet for a minute before he spoke. "What if my dad told Uncle Budd that he was the reason I didn't want to go, and he gets real mad at me?" He asked. "He might think I told on him again."

Stan felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean by that?" He asked, in an almost demanding tone.

"I can't tell you. I promised him that I wouldn't waste my time telling anyone."

A frustrated flash of anger rippled through the dark-haired boy. "Some people don't deserve to keep secrets. Sometimes you have to tell on people, whether you promised to keep it a secret or not. Now what happened?"

"I-it was nothing, honest." Butters looked like he wanted to say more, but he was biting his lip to keep from spilling. His eyes began to glaze over. Stan moved in a little closer, but not too close.

"When I ask you this, I want you to be honest with me," Stan began sternly. The soft boy's eyes flicked to his quickly, tears threatening to boil over. "Did your uncle ever touch you?" He enunciated each word clearly, but his voice still wavered a bit. He couldn't remember ever having a more serious conversation with someone.

Butters' lip quivered, and a few tears found their way down his cheeks. He wiped at his tears quickly, turning his head away and crossing his arms across his chest almost angrily. Stan wasn't sure what to do, how to comfort his distressed friend. He didn't move a muscle. "You can tell me anything," he told him.

Butters sniffled, shaking a bit. He still wouldn't look at Stan. After a moment, he nodded. A few more tears spilled over and he just let them roll down his cheeks. Stan thought for a moment, then opened his arms wide for a hug. When Butters sat still, he leaned in and hugged Butters tightly, rubbing his back gently. Butters quickly ripped himself from his grip, but a moment later leaned in for another hug as an onslaught of tears overwhelmed him. Stan's arms draped around him gently in a non-restrictive, simple hug, careful to not upset his friend.

"I'm so sorry," Stan whispered gently into his ear. "You need to tell an adult. What he has done to you is wrong and he needs to be punished."

"I already tried, and I'm the one who got punished." Butters voice was muffled in Stan's shoulder. He gripped Stan's shirt tightly as he shook. "He told me no one would believe me. And no one ever has."

"I believe you." They were simple but reassuring words. Butters sat there in Stan's arms for a long while as he steadied his sobs and collected himself. "Who did you tell?"

He took a few deep breaths before he responded. "It was when that detective guy came with that doll. I guess I didn't realize just how bad it was, because when I saw him do things that we did, I just blurted it out. But then they made me stay after school and my parents came. A bunch of grown ups were there and they kept asking me questions about my uncle. I tried to be honest when I answered them but my mom and dad were real upset. My mom couldn't stop crying so I was real scared that I was going to get in trouble. So my dad asked me if I was just making it all up to get attention and I don't know why but I just told him that I was. I think I just wanted it to get over with. The grown ups all told me that lying isn't good and I promised I would never do it again. Boy, did I get grounded that night." He paused as he started wringing his hands. "They made me promise to never say such awful things about anyone ever again. Then they made me call my Uncle Budd and tell him all about what I had said about him and made me apologize. We had our family reunion a month later, and when nobody was looking he just kept touching me. When I told him to stop he just laughed and said that no one would ever believe me so he could do whatever he wanted." Butters blinked the tears away, but fresh ones kept rolling down his cheeks. Stan laid a hand on his shoulder in a supportive gesture.

"Like I said, I believe you. And others will too. Your parents are assholes if they believed a predator over their own kid. Especially a kid like you, who always tells the truth."

The tears finally began to slow down, and he was no longer trembling. He let out a deep sigh, and looked as though he had let go of a heavy weight that had been dragging him down for a very long time. "Will you help me get people to believe me, Stan?" Butters whispered, his soft, innocent voice barely audible.

"Of course I will, dude. Of course I will."

As the night progressed, Stan contemplated sharing the horrible truth with his parents. They were none the wiser to the fact that something was wrong, as Butters had seamlessly returned to his super sweet, carefree personality as though he hadn't just shared his darkest secret with Stan as he bawled in his arms. At first Stan admired his ability to put on a brave face, but his heart ached when he recognized the facade the boy was putting on.

The Marshes still doted on Butters, preparing spaghetti (as he had told them it was one of his favorite meals) and creating a sundae bar with many different toppings for the boys to enjoy. That made Stan wish Butters could live with them forever. They even let the boys stay up later than normal to watch some of Butters' favorite shows as they ate unlimited ice cream. Butters, who was not at all used to staying up late, fell asleep on the couch, and Stan watched as Randy carried him upstairs to bed.

Stan hadn't even minded that much when he had gone to his bedroom and saw the blond tucked into his bed. He watched the sleeping boy for a moment, noticing the contented smile on his face and following the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

He pulled out his phone and called Kyle, who sounded a bit groggy when he answered. "Dude, wake up, and meet me at Stark's Pond asap," he instructed his friend before he snuck his way out of the house.

He had a few minutes to himself while he waited for Kyle to show up. The water of the pond was still, and aside from the shining moon, it was very dark. He found himself looking into the stars again, mentally pointing out a few of the different constellations that he could finally see. His eyes scanned the sky, almost hoping that another shooting star would show up.

He heard the leaves crunching under Kyle's shoes as he approached. The redheaded boy sleepily rubbed his eyes, but smiled when he reached Stan. "So, did you figure anything out?" He asked, sitting down on the bench beside his best friend.

"Yeah. Apparently his Uncle Budd is a pedophile and molested him," Stan said simply, still staring up at the stars.

Kyle's eyes met the water, gazing at the moon's reflection on the surface. "Oh," he replied, his voice low and solemn. He seemed at a loss for words.

"And the sad thing is that he tried to tell people and his parents just grounded him, and made him apologize to his uncle. This kid who lies less than fucking George Washington, and they believed a child molester over him." Stan felt himself rambling on, his volume increasing in anger.

Kyle shook his head somberly. "Well that's pretty fucked up. It sounds like they are in denial though. They probably don't want to believe that that guy is a horrible person, so they just refuse to believe it," he speculated.

"How fucked up is that, though? They have to know that Butters wouldn't lie about something like that. So them lying to themselves is just letting him get hurt. And they try to make him go stay with the guy, and ground the kid when he says he doesn't want to go. I want to punch them so bad."

Kyle shrugged. "At least they did give in and let him stay back here. That almost seems like a huge hint that they believe Butters, deep down. And don't really want him to get hurt. But they don't want to get Budd in trouble either."

"That's messed up though. He hurt a child and he should face the consequences. Who's to say he hasn't hurt a lot of other kids on top of that? That piece of crap belongs in jail."

"Maybe you should tell your parents then. Or I can ask my dad what to do. He is a lawyer after all."

Stan bit his lip in thought. "Maybe. But what if the adults just think that we are all making it up? What kind of proof do we have, other than 'hearsay'? I completely believe him but I'm not sure how that would work."

"I guess you're kind of right. Remember when we all got pissed at our parents so we called the police and told them they were molesting us to get rid of them? They'll just think we're pulling that stunt again," Kyle said.

Stan frowned but nodded. "You're right. We just might have to take this into our own hands."

The two boys shook on it.

Before long, Stan had snuck back into his house, his family seemingly unaware that he had left at all. He crept quietly into his bedroom and saw Butters still dozing peacefully in his bed. After pulling on his pajamas, he unrolled Butters' sleeping bag to sleep there for the night. He peeked up at the sleeping boy, and silently vowed to make sure that Butters' wish came true.

After all, that's what any good brother would do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I apologize for the super delayed update... adulthood is busy AF. That's just my life now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. It's a bit longer than the others, and might get a bit uncomfortable at times. Either way I hope it was worth the long wait... lol

“We have three options here,” Cartman proposed to the group the next day as they sat at a secluded table in the library. Stan knew that getting the whole group together was very important, since they all had different talents that might come in handy. Unsurprisingly, Kenny and Cartman were more than willing to help carry out justice. “We can try to tell an adult and risk them not believing us, like Kahl said. Or we can fucking kill him. Or we can try to go Chris Hanson on his pedophile ass.” 

Butters looked confused. “So, kill him?” He asked. 

“Butters, you ignorant slut. That's Charlie Manson. What I mean is to lure him in ‘To Catch a Predator’ style, then film him trying to rape you so we have proof and get his ass sent to jail. Or just straight up kill him. That would work too.” 

“Don't call Butters an ignorant slut. That's not okay,” Stan warned with a sharp glare. 

“Jesus, you guys seriously can't take a joke,” Cartman whined, rolling his eyes. 

“I don't care if it's a joke or not. You know what this is all about, you don't make jokes like that.” 

Cartman mumbled something under his breath in his signature bratty tone. “Anyway, I think the ‘To Catch a Predator and Murder Him’ plan sounds like the most fun. How are we doing this?” 

“We're not doing this for fun, you goddamn stupid fatass!” Kyle whisper-yelled. “This is for justice, not a cheap thrill.” 

The fat boy rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, it's not for fun. But we can always enjoy ourselves while we go for justice. Everyone in agreement with the idea?” 

The boys glanced around at each other. Kenny's muffled voice indicated that he would be on board with the plan. Stan and Kyle shrugged in casual agreement, but Butters’ face looked concerned and hesitant. “O-oh geez Eric, I don't know. How are we gonna get him out here?” 

“Well duh, Butters, you call him on the phone and tell him to get his hot, juicy self out here and take you to bed. I'm sure he would jump at the idea and be out here in no time,” Cartman replied as though it was blindingly obvious. 

Butters bit his lip and started fidgeting with his fists. “Well now, I'm not so sure that I would be comfortable doin’ that, Eric,” he said softly. 

Stan nodded and put a defensive hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, dude, we're not making Butters do that. We can find some other way to get him out here.” 

“Fine, fine. That's just fine. We'll just let Uncle Budd go on living his perverted life. In fact he's probably raping some poor, innocent baby right now. But doing something about it might make us uncomfortable so we should just let it happen.” The tone that Cartman used was so casual and nonchalant that it was nearly bone-chilling. 

Stan stood up, preparing to defend Butters when the blond surprised them all by speaking up. “Now you stop that Eric. I feel bad enough as it is, you don't need to manipulate me into doin’ your bidding. I already told ya I'm not comfortable with doing that, and I'm not going to do something I don't wanna do. I've lived my whole life doing everything people been tellin’ me to do whether I wanted to or not. So I'm saying no!” 

“Right on, Butters,” Kyle praised him with a proud smile. 

“I'm sure there is some other way we can lure him out here,” Stan began. “On ‘To Catch a Predator’ they usually go in chat rooms and lure in pedophiles that way. And it's always someone pretending to be a kid. So someone who is more comfortable with it can try texting his uncle from his phone and pretend to be him. Since it would be through text then Budd wouldn't have any idea that it's not really Butters.” 

“That sounds like a really good idea,” Kyle agreed. 

“I think it should be Kenny, since he is the biggest perv out of all of us,” Cartman proposed, and Kenny nodded. “Then we'll get his sick ass out here, record everything on camera, make sure it's obvious that he is a child-molesting piece of crap, then murder him in self-defense.” 

“Maybe we should stick with the more traditional Chris Hanson set up. Like, have the cops be there ready to arrest him, like a sting operation. I don't think they ever killed anyone on that show,” Kyle said. 

“Yeah, and he will go to jail anyway, and child molesters usually end up getting killed in prison. Which is what that guy really deserves. If we do it ourselves, we might get in trouble. We should leave that to the other inmates.” Stan turned to Butters and smiled. “How does that sound?” 

“W-well, I guess that sounds alright,” Butters said, his positive attitude slowly making a comeback. 

Towards the end of the day, Stan once again ran into Cartman in the otherwise empty boy's bathroom. The fat boy was just finishing up his whiz as Stan was making his way to a urinal. 

He didn't look at Cartman as he spoke. That was proper bathroom etiquette, after all. “You knew. You knew about it and you never did anything.” 

Cartman sighed as he zipped up his pants. “I know I never did anything. I'm doing something now.” 

“You never even said anything. Does he even know that you knew about it? Did you see something, or what?” 

Cartman walked over to the sinks but did not begin washing his hands. He simply stood there, looking past himself in the mirror. For a few moments, he didn't speak. “He told me. When he thought I was his robot friend, on the flight out to Cali. How his uncle always had weird games to play but that it was supposed to be a secret. It was horrific how naive and innocent he was about all of it. And I did see something.” He paused as he looked down at his own feet. “I woke up in the middle of the night because I was so hungry and thought I could sneak something to eat. But Butters wasn't in bed, so I snuck around to see where he was so he wouldn't see me out of the robot suit. I heard them, and saw them in the laundry room, way on the other side of the house. I went straight back to bed. I wasn't hungry anymore.” He was quiet for another moment. “For the longest time I managed to convince myself that it was all a dream. That it was all a hallucination from starving almost to death. Then Chef came back, and the detective came, and Butters said what he said, and spoiled that illusion. But there was no way I was coming out about everything then. It was too late.” 

Stan turned his head to look at Cartman, his expression softening. His anger and rage directed at his fat friend weakened. His heart panged as he envisioned a terrified boy running away from a sight that horrified him, an act so disgusting and detestable that no one wanted to acknowledge its existence, even at the expense of the innocent. But now they would make sure that Uncle Budd got exactly what he deserved.

  
  
  
  


The five boys were so excited to begin carrying out their plan that they went straight to Stan's house after school. Butters was still a bit hesitant, and he stayed very close to Stan, but he kept his head down. 

Stan's parents were pleased to see all of the boys coming over to play, and the group briefly entertained their questions about school and their plans for the evening. Stan quickly lied and said they had some homework to do, and the boys trudged right up the stairs to his bedroom. Butters flopped onto the bed immediately, and Kenny jumped up beside him, holding his hand out for Butters’ phone. He placed the phone into Kenny's hand and moved to the other side of the bed. 

“U-uh, guys, would it be okay if I left the room while ya handled this part?” He asked innocently, knocking his fists together. 

“Butters, you black asshole,” Cartman spat at him. “Stan's parents will think something is up if you don't be in here with us. And they'll probably get pissed off and think we kicked your ass out.”

Butters shyly looked to Stan for support. “I hate to say it, but Cartman is kinda right. Besides, we might have to ask you what to say so that it all stays as convincing as possible,” Stan said. 

Kenny began scrolling through the contacts of Butters’ phone until he found “Uncle Budd,” then tapped on it to open up a new message thread. Butters peeked shyly over his shoulder. “Just put, ‘Hi, Uncle Budd!’ with a smiley face,” Butters said softly, and Kenny did so. Stan climbed onto his bed as well, wanting to observe the action.

For five agonizing minutes, there was no response to Kenny's message. The boys were silent as they waited for a reply. Kenny kept tapping the screen when it would go dark, keeping the phone awake. 

Finally, a ding was heard, and Uncle Budd had finally replied. Butters quickly covered his eyes, and Stan read the message aloud for everyone to hear. 

“Hi Butters! How is the best nephew in the whole world? :)”

Kenny's muffled voice asked what he should say. “Give Butters the phone, you poor piece of crap, and you can text him when it gets to the sexy stuff!” Cartman commanded. “How does your poor ass know how to work a phone anyway?” Kenny narrowed his eyes as he passed the phone back to Butters, who eyed it nervously. Finally, his fingers began to type. 

“I'm doing good! How about you?” 

The replies now came rolling in in no time at all. “Just fine--just thinking about how much more fun it would be if you were here too.” 

“Aww shucks, Uncle Budd. I bet it woulda been a whole lot of fun.” Butters’ fingers trembled as he pressed send. He passed the phone back to Kenny, and lay down on the bed, rolling onto his side. Kenny sent another message. “I bet it would be a lot of fun if you were here. :)” Kenny wavered back and forth between a simple smiley and a winky face, but apparently figured a wink would be too much too fast. 

“You think so? :) I wish I was there with you. I could use one of my nephew's famous cuddles.” As the boys exchanged glances, deciding what to respond to that, another message came in. “What are you doing right now?” 

“Just sitting here, by myself. Why?” 

“I wanna facetime with you. Would that be okay?” Kenny shrugged as he showed the message to his three friends, who all had clearly been monitoring the screen closely already. 

Cartman yelled, “Grosssss! He's probably jacking it!” A guffaw escaped his lips. 

“Jacking it?” Butters said weakly, craning his neck to see the large boy. 

“Playing with his weiner,” Cartman said between laughs, wiping a tear away. Butters rolled back over and whimpered quietly. Stan glanced over at him across Kenny sadly. Kenny gently pat the little blond's shoulder.

“I'm running out of data :( the wifi sucks here. Maybe later!” Kenny quickly typed before Uncle Budd could try to Facetime him. 

“Aww, okay. I just miss seeing that handsome face. Maybe send me a picture at least? :)” 

“I have a better idea ;) You should come see me in person. That would be a whole lot better than a picture.” 

“Hmm, if I didn't know any better I would almost say that you were flirting with me…” 

“Maybe I am :P it's awful boring here, nobody plays fun games like you do. I wish you could come to South Park and come play with me. :(“

Stan said, “Dude, send him a picture of Butters with puppy dog eyes.” It seemed like a good idea, but he felt sick to his stomach as soon as the words came out of his mouth. But Kenny complied, opening the camera app to get a picture of Butters, who immediately sat up and did what was asked of him. He threw in a slight pout for good measure. Kenny said that it was perfect, and sent the picture to Uncle Budd. 

“You know I can't resist that face…. I'm sure I can figure something out ;)” 

“Yippee :)” 

Cartman began laughing hysterically. “If he wasn't jackin’ it before, he is now!” The others glared at him as his laughter slowly faded away. 

Kenny passed the phone back to Butters. The boys were silent as they sat on and around the bed, the air around them feeling dirty and dark. Cartman was the one to break the silence, a surprise to nobody. “We have to figure out how we're going to kill him,” he said. 

“We're 

killing him,” Kyle said, his voice scolding. “We'll go to the police, show them the messages, and get them to wait for him to show up and arrest him.” 

“Kahl, you ignorant Jew. You really think the South Park Police Department is smart enough to pull that off?” Cartman scoffed. “I'm pretty sure that is entrapment anyway. So the legal handling of things goes right out the window then. We might as well just kill him.” 

It seemed that Cartman had managed to convince them. None of the boys were eager to object to doling out their own punishments to the pedophile. 

To be honest, it didn't seem like “them” to handle it in any other way. 

  
  
  


“Stan, are you awake?” Stan slowly opened one eye as he heard Butters’ shy voice coming from down below, right beside his bed. 

“Yeah,” he whispered back, turning on his side to look at his friend. 

“Um, do you mind if I sleep with you tonight?” He was bumping his fists together nervously, and looked away as he asked. 

Stan thought for a moment, then pulled the blanket up, inviting the boy into the bed. The blond snuggled in close, and Stan almost instinctively pushed him away, but then decided to let him. “Just don't put your arm around me,” Stan replied jokingly as he turned his back to him. 

“Stan?” Butters asked after a moment. 

Stan grunted in response, honestly just wanting to go back to sleep. 

“W-what if our plan doesn't go like it's supposed to, and Uncle Budd g-gets me?” Butters voice shook violently, hardly audible to the dark-haired boy's ears. 

Stan took a moment to answer. “We won't let your Uncle Budd get you,” he said. His voice sounded a lot more confident than he felt. He hadn't considered anything other than their plan going perfectly. He felt Butters grasp the back of his pajama shirt. 

“Promise?” He asked, sounding much younger than his ten years. 

“I promise,” Stan replied. 

Butters’ grip on his shirt relaxed. “Is it bad that I feel kinda bad that we're gonna kill him?” He asked quietly, so quietly that Stan wasn't even sure if he had said anything at all. 

“Well, he is a very bad person who took advantage of you. It takes an evil person to do what he has done.” Stan's voice dripped with anger and bitterness. 

He felt Butters press his face into his back. Stan stayed very still. “He is my uncle though. Even though he did some awful bad stuff to me, I still love him. That's my dad's big brother. I don't think I can do it.” 

“We'll do it for you. You can leave when we start killing him, so you don't have to see it happen.” 

“Okay,” Butters said after a moment, still sounding a bit unconvinced. “Night, Stan.” 

“Night,” Stan replied as he felt Butters turn over, his back pressed gently against his own. Soon his slow, steady breathing could be heard. But Stan knew that he wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon. 

They had ironed out the details with Budd before the boys had left for the night, shortly after dinner. His parents again went above and beyond with dinner, grilling steaks for all the boys and giving them ice cream for dessert. Kenny again was in charge of texting the man, and Budd promised he would get a plane ticket for the very next day. The boys went into a panic, realizing how very little time they had to come up with their plan to murder him. 

Butters' parents had left him a key for his house. The plan was for Uncle Budd to meet them at the Stotch residence, where Butters would be “waiting” in his bedroom. They agreed that Budd would bring a bag of “items” that would make his intentions obvious. The four other boys would be hiding in Butters’ closet, and as Budd approached the bed, they would ambush him.

How they would ambush him, the boys couldn't decide. Kenny suggested they just all stab the shit out of him until he died. Kyle had made no suggestions, as he was still not entirely on board with killing the man. Cartman had several ideas in mind. First, he suggested they cut off his penis and shove it down his throat, choking him on it. Then he suggested that Butters just shoot him in the dick, since he was pretty good at that. Another idea he had was to bring a giant tub filled with saltwater, slice and dice him, then dunk him into the water to “really rub salt in his wounds.” But that plan seemed the least practical and was quickly shelved. Cartman continued on with his ideas, seeming to get a sick pleasure from the thought of torturing the man to death. 

The boys couldn't decide if they should kill him quickly and get it over with, or draw it out and let him suffer. Drawing things out had the potential for something to go wrong and ruin their plans. But they found reassurance in numbers. 

Stan decided they should delay their killing of him, tie him up, and let him know how much of a disgusting human being he is. Then they could cut his dick off, shove it down his throat, and stab him to death. Cartman called dibs on choking Budd with his own dick, because of course he did. That was as far as their planning had gone before everyone decided it was time for them to leave for the night. They could just wing it tomorrow. 

Not exactly the kind of thing you wanted to wing, but their limited time did not allow them much time to work out the kinks in their plan. 

Stan must have finally drifted off to sleep. He realized that when he woke up a few hours later, with his own arm draped protectively around Butters, who still slept peacefully. He stayed in that position as he drifted off to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support <3 Your kudos and comments give me life and are very appreciated, even if I take forever to update...


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Stan awoke to an empty bed. It strangely felt cold and lonely in Butters’ absence, despite the fact that Stan was not accustomed to having company as he slept. He stretched, rubbed his eyes, and wondered where Butters had wandered off to. It was still very early, too early for them to have to get up for school. 

He was wandering down the hall to find his young friend when he heard soft crying in the bathroom. The low, miserable wails he heard no doubt belonged to Butters, and he quickly opened the door and rushed in. 

He spotted Butters sitting in the corner of the bathroom, his knees hugged to his chest, shaking violently. “Dude, are you okay?” He asked, running to the boy's side and kneeling down beside him. 

“He's gonna get me, he's gonna get me,” he repeated between sobs. “He's on his way here and he's gonna get me!” His voice grew louder as he trembled. 

“He's not going to get you, we're not going to let him! Now stop it before my parents hear you!” Frustration was clearly evident in Stan's voice. 

As if on cue, he heard a few knocks on the door. “Is everything okay in there? What's going on?” It was Sharon. Stan held his breath, hoping that she would not decide to barge in and find her answer. 

“Everything's fine, Mom!” Stan's voice wavered as he lied to his mother. 

Tears streamed down Butters’ frightened face. A shaky hand passed his phone to Stan, opened to a picture message from his uncle. The image showed a boarding pass belonging to Budd Stotch for a flight leaving LAX at noon to a Denver airport. “Be there soon ;)” read the caption. 

“Everything is okay, it's all part of the plan. He's meeting us at your house at 5. Then we'll end it all. It will work out, I promise.” Stan gripped his shoulders and spoke slowly and reassuringly to calm the terrified boy. 

“W-what if you guys ch-chicken out… w-what if you guys leave me there and he h-hurts me?” Butters breathing turned erratic, and Stan worried he was starting to hyperventilate. The words could barely come out as he sobbed. 

“We  _ won't  _ do that to you!” Stan whisper-yelled, his grip tightening slightly. “There is absolutely no way I'm going to let you get hurt! I swear on my life!” 

Butters seemed not to hear him. “Or… or w-what if it's a trick… what if you guys are tricking me and it's just a trick to get him to hurt me?” He shoved Stan away from him as he gasped for air, choking on his sobs. 

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you? I'm not going to let him hurt you! None of us will let that happen!” 

Butters fell to his hands and knees, the stress on his body and mind becoming too much. He vomited onto the floor, sobbed some more, gasped for breath, and dry heaved. Sharon finally burst into the bathroom, crying out when she saw the pitiful sight. She rushed to the hysterical boy's side. “Oh God, Butters,” she groaned. 

Butters lifted his eyes to look at her, still on his hands and knees. “Sorry, Mrs. Marsh,” he began, hiccupping, still out of breath. “I'm grounded, aren't I?” 

Sharon's eyes widened in shock. She reached up a gentle hand to stroke his cheek, and he pulled away and winced, as though he had expected her to strike him. She hesitated before pulling him into a tight embrace, stroking his hair with one hand as she rubbed his back with the other. “No, no, you poor thing. I wasn't going to hit you, no one is going to hit you. You are not grounded.” He stiffened in her arms at first, then relaxed into the hug as his breathing evened. She shushed him soothingly, rubbing gentle circles into his back. She put a soft peck on the top of his head. “It's okay, Butters. Everything is okay.” He still trembled a bit, but calmed down with his face buried into her shoulder. Stan stared at them as they sat there for a long while. 

Finally, Butters slowly pulled away, looking up at Sharon apprehensively, as though he expected her soothing demeanor to transform into a punishing wrath. She slowly raised her hand to his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “What's the matter, Butters? Do you feel sick? Have a bad dream?” 

“I-I just had a real bad dream,” he replied, hiccupping. “I'll just get this cleaned up and get ready for school.” 

Sharon shook her head, rising to her feet. “No, I will get this, sweetie. Why don't you go back to bed and get some rest? I'll let you stay home today. Don't worry about school.” 

Butters bumped his knuckles together. “But I can't not go to school, why, I'll be grounded,” he protested. 

“You won't be grounded, I promise. Now head back to bed, that's an order.” She smiled gently and winked as Butters suddenly got the hint, turning to leave the bathroom. 

Sharon turned to look at her son, who stood in the middle of the room, stunned at the display. She gave him a sad smile. “I love you, Stanley,” she whispered, bending down to give him a warm hug. 

Stan's eyebrows furrowed as he returned the hug, melting into his mother's arms. He couldn't remember the last time she had hugged him like that. “I love you too, mom,” he replied. She pulled back just enough to kiss his cheek, then squeezed him in tight again. 

“Start getting ready for school, Stan,” she instructed as she got ready to clean up the mess. The puddle on the floor was quite large with chunks of undigested food strewn about. Stan suddenly felt incredibly guilty. “I'll be down to make you some waffles.” He nodded, then turned to walk out of the bathroom. 

He walked into his bedroom. Butters lay in the bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. Stan slowly approached the bed, and the blonde's eyes fluttered open. “Are you staying home today, too?” He asked very quietly, his face flushed red from crying. 

“No,” Stan replied, resting his hands on the edge of the bed. “Listen, I know you are terrified about the whole plan. So I'm going to take your place in it, and you can stay here. That way you know that he can't hurt you.” 

Butters sat up slowly, searching Stan's eyes carefully. “Ya mean it, Stan? Really?” 

“Of course. That's what brothers are for, right?” Stan smiled as he placed a gentle hand on Butters’ shoulder. Butters jumped up and charged at Stan, grabbing him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you Stan, thank you, thank you!” Tears were evident in the boy's voice again, but those sounded like grateful, relieved tears. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said reassuringly. He went to pull out some clothes, dressing quickly as he watched Butters fall into a contented slumber. He couldn't help but feel slightly envious, if he had to be honest. 

As he walked down the stairs, he heard his mother telling his father about what had just transpired in the bathroom. Stan stopped in his tracks halfway down the steps to listen. 

“He thought I was going to  _ hit  _ him, Randy,” he heard his mother say, her voice fighting back tears. “He was so scared that he made himself sick and he was afraid I was going to  _ hit _ him. He asked me if he was  _ grounded _ . I just can't handle that, Randy. The sweetest kid I've ever seen and he's worried I'm going to punish him for throwing up on the bathroom floor.” 

“Wow, that's pretty fucked up,” his father replied, his tone thick with disgust. 

“How am I supposed to send him back when they come home, Randy? How can I just give him back to them, knowing for certain that they are abusing him? How can I hand him back to parents who would hit him for getting so sick? I can't give him back. My conscience won't allow it.” 

Stan resumed his trek down the stairs and to the table where a tall glass of orange juice was waiting for him. He saw his father holding his mother tightly as he took a sip of his juice. He wondered if his parents would somehow try to adopt Butters. 

A few days ago, Stan would never have believed that he would be silently praying for that to be true. 

  
...  
  


“Change in plan, guys,” Stan announced as he made it to the bus stop. “Butters isn't going to be there tonight.”

“Where is he now?” Kyle asked, visibly confused. 

“The whole thing has got him so messed up that he threw up this morning, so my mom let him stay home. And I told him that he didn't have to go to his house later. He was terrified that things weren't going to work out, and he was gonna get hurt. So I told him he didn't have to be there.” 

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Cartman shouted. “If he isn't there, the uncle is going to know something is up, and it  _ really _ won't work out! That fucking pussy just ruined it for the rest of us!” 

Stan rolled his eyes. “I told him I would go in his place. I'll be the one lying in bed. By that time it will be dark outside and with the lights off he won't even realize anything's up. And if he does, that's when you guys ambush him.” 

“That might work,” Kyle commented, looking up at the sky in thought. “Maybe have you wear a hat or something so he doesn't see your hair.” 

The boys all agreed to this change in plan, and quickly dropped the subject when the bus arrived. They attempted to act naturally and hide their apprehension for the evening's activities, but planning a murder was stressful on the mind. 

The school day dragged on as Stan watched the clock. His attempts to focus were futile. He had kept Butters’ phone, and when it buzzed in his pocket he resisted the urge to pull it out and check the message. He fidgeted all day long, almost as much as Tweek, and he thanked God that no one aside from his friends seemed to notice. 

At lunch, they still couldn't discuss their plans as others sat at the table with them. A few of the other boys discussed the new superhero movie that had just come out, and Cartman easily joined in on the conversation. Clearly, this wasn't entirely new to the fat boy. The others were quiet, though, uncharacteristically quiet, but thankfully the other kids were too wrapped up in the conversation to notice. 

Stan pulled out Butters’ phone and showed the picture message it had received to the other three boys. It was a selfie from Uncle Budd who was waiting at the airport. His smile bordered between friendly and mischievous. “So tired of waiting. Can't wait to see you tonight ;)” read the accompanying caption. 

“Ugh, he is so creepy looking,” Kyle remarked, wrinkling his nose as he shivered. 

“Yeah, he's even more gross than I remembered. Just wait until his head is bashed in!” He whispered, then chuckled as the other boys hushed him. 

Stan quickly typed a reply. “I can't wait to see you either! I'll leave the door unlocked, just come right up to my room when you get there. I'll be waiting in my bed for you ;)” He felt dirty as he tapped send. He felt the Stotches’ house key in his pocket as he pushed the mental image that he was sure was going through Budd's mind out of his own head. 

The rest of the day crept by even more slowly. He almost regretted taking Butters’ phone to school, as now he couldn't easily check in on the frightened boy. But he had worried that Butters would text his uncle not to come, or would let the details of the plan slip to someone else, and didn't want to risk any of that happening. Then, just as school was letting out and the boys were at their lockers, the phone began to ring and Stan really regretted his decision to take the phone when the name “Dad” popped up on the screen. 

“Guys, what do I do?” He cried, holding up the screen for everyone to see. Cartman snatched the phone out of Stan's hand, ready to answer the call. 

“Don't you even think about saying anything stupid!” Kyle hissed. “His parents will come home right now and beat him silly!” 

The image of Butters recoiling from Stan's mother as she went to comfort him came into Stan's mind, and his heart sunk in his chest. If the poor boy had expected a slap across the face for an accident like that, Stan didn't want to think about what could be expected as the result of Cartman's mouth. The boys were well aware of what had happened last time Cartman had impersonated Butters on the phone. Had it happened a second time, Butters would probably be dead. 

Cartman glared at Kyle as he put the phone to his ear. “W-well hi Dad, how are things going?” He could do a good Butters impression on the phone, although it wasn't perfect. “Oh, just fine Dad, school was great today. And I been real good at Stan's, honest!” Cartman's eye twitched as he held back from saying anything offensive. The other boys watched on, holding their breath. “Y-yeah, you'll have to fight the Marshes to get me back home, heh. Okay, see ya later Dad, love ya!” He hung up the phone and shoved it back to Stan. “Jesus, you guys have no fucking idea how hard that was.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes and beginning to stomp away. 

The boys agreed to meet at Butters’ house at 3:45, which was almost an hour away. Budd would be there around 5, so hopefully that would give them enough time to prepare. Stan stopped at his own house first to check on Butters, who he found sitting on the couch in the living room watching daytime television. 

“Hiya, Stan!” He greeted cheerfully with a pleasant smile. Stan sat down next to him with a heavy sigh. “How was school?” 

“It was alright,” Stan replied, not entirely lying. “Just couldn't focus.” 

Butters frowned. “Nervous?” He asked, quietly. 

“Extremely,” Stan said, turning to look at Butters with a sad smile. 

Butters returned the sad smile and looked down at his hands folded neatly in his lap. “Be careful, Stan, I don't want you getting hurt. Uncle Budd is awful mean and he's awful strong too. He ain't no rocket scientist, but he ain't stupid either.” 

Stan bit his lip, feeling his stomach do a few somersaults. “I'll keep that in mind.” 

Butters took one of Stan's hands in his. “Just be very careful. I got faith in you guys though. And gee, I sure appreciate you doin’ this for me. It really means a lot.” Stan smiled and pulled Butters in for a quick hug. When they pulled away, the blond continued. “Boy, after you left for school, before your mom and dad left for work, they asked me a buncha questions about my parents. They didn't seem none too happy about what I said. I sure hope they're not too mad at my mom and dad. If they say somethin’ to them, they might come back home early, and I wouldnt get to stay here no more. I really do like it here.” 

Stan really had no idea what to say to that. Finally he said, “I really like having you stay here with us. And not just because my parents have been spoiling us like they were Cartman's mom. I wasn't too excited about you coming here when I first heard about it. But I really am glad that you came.” 

Butters’ expression fell slightly and Stan regretted mentioning that part. But he smiled again as he went on. “I heard your parents talking a little bit. They said something about how if they could, they would let me move in here. I do love my mom and dad but I sure wouldn't be against that.” 

“I wouldn't be against that either,” Stan said honestly, smiling wide. He turned to watch the TV, relaxing in Butters’ calm presence. His eyes still watched the clock nervously, but the cliche sitcom that was playing helped to soothe his nerves some with its mindless humor. 

As the time approached for him to head over to the Stotch resident, Stan went up to his bedroom to grab some last minute things. Into his bag, he threw Butters’ polka dotted pajamas and his teddy bear. Thinking quickly, he tossed in his tool belt from his Toolshed costume, figuring it might come in handy. He rushed down to the kitchen and pulled out a butcher knife. He eyed its sharp blade carefully before stashing it away into the bag. 

He looked at the clock. 3:40. “Okay, Butters, I have to leave now,” he called out to him, his voice unsteady and catching in his throat. “Here, take my phone. We might need yours, but I still want to be able to get a hold of you.” He tossed Butters his phone, and the other boy caught it expertly. “As soon as everything is finished, I'll call you.” He started to make his way out the front door. 

“Stan?” Butters called, playing with the hem of his shirt. Stan turned to look at him, his hand on the door knob. “Good luck and be careful. I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Stan replied quickly as he dashed out the door. There was no turning back now. Soon he would be an accomplice to murder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for hanging in there with me this far! Please let me know what you think; your kudos and comments mean the world to me and are what keep me going!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the chapter that everyone has been waiting for lol. So just as a warning, parts of this chapter could be uncomfortable to some people, although I do promise that those parts do not last long nor are they very graphic, but I did want to leave a warning anyway...

“Stan, you ignorant  _ hippie! _ ” Cartman yelled down the street as he, Kyle, and Kenny stood at the locked front door of Butters’ house. “You're fucking late!” 

Stan was out of breath as he reached the door, his hands shaky as he attempted to unlock it with the key. “It's 3:46,” he protested between gasps. 

“We agreed to meet at 3:45!” Cartman's whiny voice prompted the other boys to all roll their eyes. “We don't have all fucking day!” 

“Stop yelling, fatass!” Kyle whispered angrily. “Do you  _ want _ to draw attention to us?” Stan finally got the door open and dashed inside. The others followed him, toting full backpacks. Their minds were focused only on the task at hand as they ran up the stairs into their young friend's bedroom. 

Cartman slid the closet door open. Luckily, there would be plenty of room for the three boys to make their hiding spot. Kenny began rummaging inside to find anything that could be useful. His muffled voice asked if Stan had brought a hat to wear to hide his black hair, no doubt far different from Butters' blond locks. 

“Damn it, I knew I was forgetting something,” he scolded himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He had nothing but the hat he always wore, and since Budd had seen him wearing that hat in the Facetime call, he would know that it wasn't Butters. 

Kenny came walking out of the closet, holding Butters’ baseball cap from when all the boys played on the Little League Team, coached by Butters' dad. 

“Good thinking, Kenny,” Kyle said, taking the cap and placing it on Stan's head. It didn't cover much of his hair, as his hair was much longer than Butters’. Kyle tried to pull it down lower to hide more of the dark locks, but stopped when Stan cried out. 

“Dude, maybe he won't notice,” Stan muttered as he rubbed his forehead. “It'll be dark by then anyway.” 

“Can't take any chances,” Cartman declared, walking back into the room with an electric shaver. 

“You can't be serious,” Stan said, rolling his eyes as Cartman turned it on. 

“Seriously, do you want to help Butters or not?” Cartman shouted over the whirring of the shaver. Stan looked down to the floor and removed the hat. “Leave it on, dumbass,” Cartman barked. Stan put it back on, and Cartman began to quickly shave the parts of his hair that weren't hidden by the cap. When he was finished, he turned off the shaver and went to put it back where he found it. Kyle got to work cleaning up the hair. 

“How stupid do I look?” Stan asked his best friend softly, taking off the hat. 

“You look… different,” Kyle replied, not wanting to lie to his friend. Stan sighed, put the hat back on, and carried the polka dotted pajamas into the bathroom to get changed. Once he was in there, he looked at his new hair in the mirror and cringed. His mother would have to fix the shoddy work. But for now it was sufficient. 

He looked at the time on Butters’ phone. Almost 4:30. He realized that Budd had sent a message about half an hour ago. “Just left the airport--on my way to get some stuff for our play time :)” Stan decided not to answer. He began to shiver nervously, now understanding how Butters had felt that morning. 

The other three boys dragged their bags into the closet and set up camp. Stan heard them whispering amongst themselves, going through their bags and showing off the various weapons inside. Stan heard Kyle praise Kenny for having found something in Butters’ closet that for sure would come in handy, and he felt a bit envious that he wasn't exactly included in that part of the plan. He ran down the stairs to make sure the front door was unlocked, then took a moment to look around. 

The house was very, very clean and well-decorated. The color scheme was a bit of an eye sore; for one thing, the walls of the living room were an ugly green color. But other than that the home seemed well put together. Family pictures could be seen scattered throughout the house, particularly pictures of Butters, which Stan thought was rather odd. His parents put pictures up, of course, but not as many as there were here. To Stan it almost seemed as though Butters’ parents were trying to prove something. 

Altogether the home felt… sterile. It didn't feel warm, welcoming, lived in, like his own home. Somehow it felt artificial like the set of a family sitcom, as though a "family" of actors were due any moment to set the scene and act out their parts. To go through the motions of a happy family. It was a haunting feeling, and one that Stan was itching to break away from. 

He trudged up the stairs and made it back to Butters' bedroom. He noticed a shockingly high number of locks on the outside of Butters’ door, and stared at them for a moment in alarm before slowly walking back in. The other boys were very quiet, and the closet door was left just slightly ajar, just enough that one of them could peek out and see what was going on. Stan sighed as he mentally prepared himself for what was soon to come. The time on Butters’ phone read 4:45. If he was on time, then Budd would be there very, very soon. The light coming in from the window was already fading fast. Stan grabbed the teddy bear, shut the bedroom door, adjusted the cap on his head, then pulled back the comforter on the made bed and climbed inside, pulling the blanket up to his chin as he lay on his side. He held the teddy bear beside him, allowing its head to stick out from under the blanket as he clutched it in sweaty hands. He buried his face into the bear's fur, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. He lay very still under the blanket, his back to the door, and waited. 

The wait seemed to drag on and on, torturing him with dread and apprehension. He breathed in and out, trying to stay calm, stroking the bear against his cheek. It soon felt like Budd would never show up; Stan hoped that maybe he never would, that maybe he had gotten into a horrific car accident on the way there. Maybe he had hitched a ride from a crazed Uber driver who slashed his throat. Maybe the guilt had become too much, and he had committed suicide, a very slow and painful kind. Stan listened to his heart pound in his ear through the pillow as he contemplated all the ways that the pedophile could have died. 

The room was nearly completely dark now. All was very quiet and still, and the only noises he could hear came from himself: his rapid pulse, his deep breaths. Stan almost felt completely alone in the world, as though Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny were not sitting just a few feet away in the closet with plans to murder a man. As though Butters’ uncle wasn't on his way there with plans to participate in horrible acts with his young nephew. He closed his eyes tightly, envisioning a night sky full of stars. In his mind he was gliding effortlessly through space, soft twinkling lights whirring past him. He felt at peace, all of his problems on Earth very, very small and very, very far away.

Suddenly, he heard it, bringing him back down to Earth: the front door slowly opened downstairs, and then slowly closed. Stan held his breath. A moment later, he heard feet shuffling across the carpet, feet shuffling up the stairs slowly and carefully as though any step could trigger a landmine. The footsteps came closer to the bedroom door. He still didn't breathe. Soon the footsteps stopped just outside the door. His lungs begged for air. A couple of light knocks on the door. A pause. The doorknob slowly turned, and the door opened inward, casting a thin, vertical stream of light into the dark room. He began breathing slowly and deeply, pretending to be asleep. 

A looming presence slowly stepped into the room, rustling a plastic shopping bag. “Butters?” It called out gently, quietly. Uncle Budd was here. Stan said nothing and did not move, forcing his breaths to stay even. His heart thudded in his chest. 

The footsteps tread over to the bed slowly, and Stan heard the man's deep breaths just above him, standing and staring. Then a large hand reached down and stroked up and down his arm with a chuckle. “I'm here now, Butters,” Budd said, almost in a warm, calming tone. “You can wake up now.” His hand began rubbing his back gently.

Stan scrunched his eyebrows together, afraid to move, unsure of what his next move should be. Budd's hand slid away from his back and began to gently stroke his tummy. The hand gently began traveling south, and that's when Stan rolled gently onto his back with a moan and a stretch. He instinctively pushed the hand away, and Uncle Budd chuckled. 

“Playing hard to get, are we?” Budd set the bag down beside the bed, and gently pulled who he thought was Butters into a sitting position. 

Stan wished that he was as good as Cartman at doing a Butters impression. Faking grogginess, he mumbled, “Gee, s-sorry I fell asleep Uncle Budd. Guess I'm not a very good host.” 

The poor impression seemed to be at least good enough to not tip Budd off. The man chuckled and sat down next to Stan, snaking an arm around his shoulder. “I think I know a way that you can make it up to me,” Budd said quietly, flirtatiously. 

“W-what's that?” Stan asked, feigning innocence. Budd's smile grew across his face like a slithering snake as a finger guided Stan's face toward his. Budd's grip on his shoulder tightened as he leaned in to kiss Stan's lips. A steady hand kept his face still as he grimaced into the kiss and tried to pull away. Stan swallowed, suppressing the urge to vomit as a slimy tongue swiped across his lips, then roughly intruded. The large tongue assaulted the inside of his mouth as the hand left his chin to explore the rest of his body. Stan gagged as the tongue hit his throat. 

Budd pulled away from the kiss. “We haven't even gotten  _ that _ far, yet,” he said with a chuckle, leaving Stan confused about what he meant by that statement. Still dazed, he felt Budd rip the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. He seemed to be wasting no time as he grabbed Stan's small hand and placed it in his lap, wrapping it gently around something. That something was startlingly large, and Stan's young mind first went to wondering why Budd had shoved a banana into his pocket. He recalled a quote he had once heard from a movie; what movie it was, he couldn't remember. But a woman jokingly asked a man, in a low, sexy voice, “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” For some reason that man really did have a banana in his pocket. But Stan was sure there was no banana here. This man was just happy to see him. His eyes widened in shock. 

Budd let out a hearty laugh at Stan's reaction. “You are so fucking goddamn cute,” he purred. “I live for that adorable reaction every time.” Stan suddenly felt a flash of anger crash through him as the thought of innocent Butters being subjected to such awful things invaded his mind. There was no doubt about how sick this man was. “Don't worry, you know I'll be gentle. At first.” He chuckled evilly as he shoved Stan back onto the bed. 

Stan was just about to scream as he suddenly heard a sickening THWACK. The monster looming above him slumped over onto the floor. Stan turned to see Kenny standing over the unconscious man wielding a steel baseball bat. He let out a shaky sigh in relief. Kenny had administered enough force to knock the man out but not to fully kill him, as evidenced by Budd's breathing. 

“Thank fucking God, you guys. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show up,” Stan groaned as the other boys filed out of the closet. Cartman tossed a large, rolled up tarp to Kyle who then lay it flat on the floor. He unfurled two coils of rope and the three boys set to work, expertly tying around Budd's arms and legs to restrict him for when he woke up.

“Help us get him on the tarp,” Cartman commanded, and Stan slowly stood up to help him and Kenny lift him as Kyle slid the tarp underneath the man. They all let out a “phew” as they relaxed, sitting down onto the tarp. It seemed that the difficult, uncertain part was out of the way. 

“Are you okay, dude?” Kyle whispered, laying a hand on Stan's bare shoulder. Stan shrugged in response, staring at Budd's unconscious figure on the floor. 

Kenny's half-hidden face appeared to be contorted in anger as he walked back to the others, carrying the plastic shopping bag that Budd had brought with him. He opened it up and lowered it so that the others could look inside at its contents. There was an assortment of lubes and condoms, what appeared to be a blindfold, and a pair of handcuffs. Kyle gasped loudly, covering his mouth. 

“That sick fucking bastard,” Cartman grumbled under his breath. 

Stan shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of what he saw in the bag. When he realized exactly what those things were, the sight absolutely disgusted him. After a moment, he dashed out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom where he promptly vomited into the toilet. 

When he came back into the room, Cartman had changed into a blue suit with a black tie. He stood directly over Budd, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Obviously, he wanted to be the first thing that Budd would see when he regained consciousness. Kenny picked up the baseball bat and stood directly over Budd's head, in a stance that indicated he was ready to swing if necessary. 

“Jesus Christ, guys,” Stan said as he was slowly coming out of shock. “How the Hell did you manage to get him tied up so fast? Did you guys rehearse this or something?”

“Two words: YouTube tutorials,” Cartman said simply, still standing over the unconscious man. Stan was not at all surprised. There was a YouTube video for just about anything. 

The room was deathly quiet as the boys intently watched the stationary child molester, waiting for him to wake up to proceed with their plans. Kenny's body shook a little as he held the baseball bat over his shoulder. Kyle stood very still, a panicked expression on his face as he stared down at the man they conspired to kill. Cartman looked cool, calm, and collected, a small smile splayed on his lips as he stood with excellent posture. Stan wanted desperately to change back into his regular clothes, but did not dare to look away in fear of missing a single thing. 

The minutes felt like hours as nothing happened. Stan's eyes observed the rise and fall of Budd's chest, the only observable proof that Budd had not already been killed. For a moment he worried that the man had slipped into a coma, never to wake up, and that the four of them would stand there for the rest of eternity waiting for him to wake up. 

There was the slightest flicker of movement on Budd's face, and Kyle gasped in shock. For a long moment, there was no further movement, and then his eyes snapped open. Wide eyes stared up at the ceiling before landing on Cartman's smiling face. 

“Hello there, Mr. Budd Stotch. My name is Eric Cartman. Welcome to ‘To Kill a Predator.'” Cartman's voice was calm yet sinister. 

Budd's eyes widened further in alarm as he tried to wriggle himself free from the binds. “What the Hell is going on here?!” He screamed, looking around at all of the boys, crazed eyes dancing wildly. 

Cartman let out an evil chuckle. “Why don't you have a seat over there?” He asked sweetly, waving his hand over to the bed. “Oh, I'm sorry. I see you're a bit tied up right now.” 

“Let me go!” Budd commanded, trying to pry his legs apart. But the three boys had done an excellent job keeping him restrained and his legs were unable to budge even an inch. Still, he wormed around on the floor, grunting and gasping for breath. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He eyed Kenny nervously.

“You may remember me as your nephew Butters’ robot friend, Awesom-O 4000. We came to visit you not long ago. Butters let me in on many of his darkest, darkest secrets. He sure had a lot to say about you.” Budd searched the large boy's face, appearing to slowly remember. Cartman was obviously enjoying this, a wide smile still gracing his face. 

Budd's forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows shot up higher on his face than it even seemed possible. He feigned confusion, glancing around at the four boys as though he was finally catching on. “Why, I have no idea what you are talking about!” He cried. 

Cartman frowned. He walked over to where the bag sat on the floor, bent down to pick it up, then looked inside as though he was seeing the contents for the first time. “Hmm, maybe this will jog your memory,” he said as he carried the bag over. He quickly turned it upside down and started shaking it, emptying the items directly onto Budd's face. He turned his head to the side as the objects came down, and the metal handcuffs bounced off of his cheek painfully. 

“Your little nephew told me all about the fucked up games you like to play with him. And I know he wasn't lying, because I witnessed it myself. That first night I stayed there, trust me, I saw some shit.” Cartman paused for a moment, the frown remaining on his face. “I saw you in the laundry room, leaning against the wall with your fingers twisted in his hair.” Budd shook his head in denial. “I think you have gone without punishment long enough. It's time you face the consequences for your disgusting behavior.” 

Just then the bedroom door flew open. “Butters!” Kenny cried out at the sight of their little friend. The others looked confused, but Stan, still almost in shock, didn't feel very surprised. This might as well be happening too, he figured.

"What are you doing here?" Kyle yelled out in surprise. Butters ran to Stan, stepping over his restrained uncle almost as though he wasn't there. He wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight. 

"I couldn't stop worrying about Stan, so I wanted to check to make sure he was okay," Butters replied as Stan returned the hug.

“Butters!” Budd cried, as though he was relieved to see his nephew. “Hey, buddy, ya gotta help me here! I think there's been a big misunderstanding.” He chuckled nervously, shrugging in the ropes. His tone was incredibly manipulative. “Your friends think I'm a bad person. You gotta tell them all how I would never even hurt a fly! Come on, who's the best nephew in the world?” 

Butters turned around and glared at his uncle. “I gotta admit, Uncle Budd, I sure hoped you'd be dead by the time I got here,” Butters replied, disappointment dripping in his tone. “But since you're alive, you can kiss my ass!” He stomped over to the man, lifted a small foot, and with an unexpected amount of power he slammed his foot down directly on his crotch. The wind was instantly knocked out of Budd, who then groaned loudly as he writhed in pain. 

Cartman praised the blond boy with a golf clap. The others were too stunned to react as they watched the man wiggle on the floor in pain like a dying worm. “Let's get the show on the road, shall we?” He said. 

Kenny handed the baseball bat over to Butters, who took no time at all to slam it into his uncle's stomach. Budd let out a soft, “Oomph!” and the boy took no time at all to swing the bat into his stomach again. The small boy swung again and again, each time crying out as he did. He gave the man no time to recover between hits. Stan watched the bat hit the man in a daze, almost feeling like he was watching a movie. Butters panted furiously as he lifted up the bat and slammed into Budd one more time before dropping it to the floor. 

Budd's face was contorted horribly in agony. Cartman formed a “time out” signal with his hands. Butters sat down on the floor to catch his breath as the others stood still, poised to attack when given the order. 

“Kenny?” Cartman said, cocking his head towards the boy in the orange parka. Kenny gave a single nod as he went back into the closet, promptly returning with a large butcher knife. Budd's eyes widened as he caught sight of the knife in Kenny's hand. The boy made his way back to Budd, standing at his feet. The man did not let him out of his sight. “You may remember how I mentioned the night in the laundry room. I'm sure you haven't forgotten a single detail of that, have you?” Butters covered his eyes. “Now the tables have turned. How would you like to be the one choking on your cock, Uncle Budd?” Cartman's evil chuckle returned. 

Uncle Budd's eyes widened so far that Stan was certain they would soon be popping out of their sockets. His chest heaved, still trying to catch his breath from the assault, and now in panic as he put two and two together. “What… what the… what the fuck do you mean by that?” His voice cracked audibly in terror.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Cartman said, grinning a sinister grin. He extended his hand, eyes still on Budd's terrified face, and Kenny slapped the butcher knife into it. He held the sharp blade up to his eye, inspecting it and admiring it, running a finger down its curved edge. 

“No… no, please, you can't do this!” Budd pleaded, desperately trying to break free of the ropes that restrained him. 

“Oh I can, and I will,” Cartman replied, smirking. “I could listen to you beg all day. But I have better plans for you. Besides, soon you won't even be needing that anymore.” 

Budd began screaming for help, thrashing about as much as he possibly could. His screams bounced off the walls and seemed to shake the windows. Kenny commanded him to shut the fuck up. He dashed over to where the blindfold lay on the floor a few feet away, balled it up in his hands, and shoved it into Budd's screaming mouth. With his eyes shut, Budd hadn't seen that move coming. Now, his voice was as muffled as Kenny's. 

Cartman calmly knelt down beside Budd's crotch, knife in hand. The man was now frozen in fear, unable to move a single muscle, his eyes transfixed on the blade. Cartman watched his face as he unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and then roughly pulled them down, doing the same with his underwear. Stan grimaced as Cartman nonchalantly lifted Budd's penis with one hand, held it up straight, and hacked it off with one quick slice of the butcher knife. 

Stan couldn't watch anymore. He covered his eyes, feeling vomit make its way up his esophagus. Idly, he wondered if there had been a YouTube tutorial for this situation. “What's up guys, Eric Cartman here with another How To video. Sometimes you're just going about your day when the need to cut someone's fucking dick off arises. Maybe you're executing justice on a sick pedophile. Maybe you caught a man in the middle of having sex with your wife. Maybe some asshole Jew cut you off in traffic. Oftentimes, cutting off their dick is the only option. For this you're going to need a steady hand and a very sharp butcher knife."

Budd's agonized wails rang throughout the room, and Stan felt something grasp his legs. He jumped, startled, then looked down to see Butters’ arms wrapped tightly around him, hiding his face. Stan slowly crouched down beside him, and the two boys held each other tightly, refusing to observe the awful sight before them. Stan heard Budd's screams become clearer as one of the others must have removed the blindfold that gagged him. 

"Shove it in there!" He heard Kyle scream after a few moments, as Budd's voice bouncing around the room as he must have been tossing his head back and forth. 

"Hold his head still, you fucking Jew!" Cartman yelled back, frustrated. 

The screams were then abruptly cut off, replaced with gagging and choking noises. Butters shook violently in Stan's arms, vibrating as though the pressure would send him rocketing to space. 

“Go, get him out of here!” Kyle suddenly commanded. Stan looked to his best friend who held a clean knife similar to the knife Cartman had used to sever the man's penis. 

Stan shakily got to his feet, helping the blond boy to his own. Butters’ hands clamped tightly over his eyes. Stan hooked an arm around one of his as he carefully guided Butters around his choking uncle who was now being stabbed repeatedly by Kenny and Cartman. He shut the door carefully behind them. Butters slowly peeled his hands away, wide eyes staring into Stan's. With a hand on the blonde's back, Stan guided him down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door as sharp, arrhythmic squelching sounds could be heard from the bedroom. The boys walked in an almost zombie-like daze, stumbling down the sidewalk, questioning reality. Instead of heading home, Stan found himself leading Butters down to Stark's Pond. They slumped down onto the bench, deathly silent. 

Their surroundings were extremely dark. A full moon hung overhead, and stars upon stars twinkled in the sky. The water was very still. For a long while, the only sound to be heard was the chirping of crickets. 

Stan finally broke the silence. His voice was shaky and raspy, as though he hadn't spoken in a very long time. A trembling arm pointed up to the sky. He began pointing out the different constellations: the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Ursa Minor and Major, and a few others that his Uncle Jimbo had always shown him as they stargazed when Stan was a child. He glanced over at Butters, who seemed to not have heard a word he was saying. The boy stared blankly ahead at the water's glassy surface. 

Stan sighed as he stood up, then took Butters by the hand and pulled him to his feet. Slowly they trudged back to Stan's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please feel free to leave feedback! :) Kudos and comments are always encouraging, and I truly appreciate you all <3


	9. Chapter 9

By the time the two boys made it back to Stan's house, it was almost seven. As they opened the door and made their way inside, Sharon met them at the door, holding a dish towel. "There you boys are," she said calmly. "You just missed dinner. Your sister and I are cleaning up the dishes, but help yourselves to some leftovers if you want." She gestured back to the kitchen before walking back to finish cleaning up.

Stan just stood in the doorway, blinking. Clearly his mother had no way of knowing what they had just been up to, but still her normal behavior felt incredibly strange after what had just happened. She hadn't even commented on his lack of shirt, the pajama bottoms, or the baseball cap. He had been certain that she would have shrieked about his hair, but she must not have noticed the new style.

Of course, stranger things have happened.

There was no doubt at all that eating dinner was out of the question. Stan clapped Butters on the back and led him up to his bedroom, and the shaken boy simply followed him, saying nothing. He seemed absolutely catatonic. Stan watched him as he just slipped into the sleeping bag, clothes and shoes still on, and rolled over to go to sleep.

Stan sighed, deciding it was time to get dressed into some regular clothes. He pulled on his signature outfit and covered his horrible new hair with his normal hat. Thank God he wore that hat constantly. Maybe his hair would grow back before anyone even noticed.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and decided to give Kyle a quick call to see where they were in the plan. When it rang and rang with no answer, he felt a panic chill up his body, and he quickly called Cartman's number.

His fat friend picked up immediately. "What the fuck do _you_ want, Stan?!" He growled into the phone.

That didn't sound good. "I was just wondering how everything was going," Stan replied, his voice still a bit raspy. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Do you guys need help?"

"No, we don't need help!" Cartman shouted as though the question seriously offended him. "Kenny and I can handle this ourselves!"

Stan scowled. "What happened to Kyle?"

"I have no fucking idea, but when I find that filthy Jew I'm going to wring his neck!" Cartman barked into the phone.

"I just tried calling him and I got no answer," Stan said. "Maybe I should try him again. Talk to you guys later. If you need any help just give me a call."

"What?" He heard Cartman snap, but not directly into the phone. "Oh, well, Kenny wants to know how Butters is doing I guess."

Stan turned to look at the sleeping boy who had hidden himself entirely in the sleeping bag. "I'm not sure, he's been really quiet. I don't think he has said anything."

"Kenny said he'll come over and check on him after we get rid of the body."

"Okay." Stan hung up the phone as he heard Cartman barking orders to the "ignorant poor piece of crap." He quickly called Kyle again, and this time Kyle picked up immediately.

"What's up?" he said simply.

"Dude, where the fuck are you?!" Stan shouted into the phone.

"Um, sitting at home?" Kyle replied, as though this was just any average night. As though they hadn't just ended a man's life.

"Cartman is furious. He says when he finds you he is going to wring your neck. Why did you take off?"

"Oh boy, what's gotten into him now?" His tone was jokingly ignorant, which calmed Stan's nerves. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Let me guess. Cartman told you guys to act like this never happened, and you're being a smartass just to piss him off."

"Act like what never happened?" Kyle asked innocently, and Stan could hear the smirk in his voice.

"That's what I thought," Stan said with a chuckle, sighing in relief.

"Hey, is Butters okay? I'm not sure why, but I have a feeling that I should ask."

Stan still wasn't sure how to answer that. "As good as can be expected, I guess," he replied, looking down at the unmoving lump in the sleeping bag.

"Alright! Well, since there's nothing new going on, I guess I'll let you go. Talk to you later, Stan!" Kyle then quickly hung up the phone.

Stan slid his phone into his pocket before kneeling down to check on his friend. He placed a hand on where he assumed Butters' shoulder would be, and when he felt no movement he panicked, as though he just knew that Butters was dead too. That they would have another body to hide. That everyone would just drop like flies until there was no other person on Earth but the guilty children. He quickly pulled back the sleeping bag, startling Butters who shrieked as he sat up.

"Okay, you're alive," Stan said, chuckling nervously yet relieved, his rapid pulse settling. Butters suddenly glared at him, as though he had just made the most offensive joke. "But really, I wanted to check on you. You've been really quiet. Just want to make sure you're okay."

"Gee, I'm real sorry, Stan," Butters grumbled sarcastically. "I guess I forgot I gotta jump for joy right now."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "I mean, your uncle is dead now. The man who has caused you so much pain and trauma can never hurt you again. I'm not saying you gotta jump for joy. But there has to be somewhat of a weight lifted from your shoulders."

"Yeah, my Uncle Budd's dead. I wished that he couldn't hurt me no more, and now he's dead. It makes me happy that he can't hurt me now. But I've been thinkin'. Do you remember when I was being bullied by my grandma?"

Stan thought for a moment. "Oh yeah, I remember that. But I don't know if we should kill her too, though, Butters."

Butters closed his eyes and sighed. "No, no, that's not what I mean! I remember when you and I went on the Dr. Oz show to promote your anti-bullying movie, and I beat him silly right on national television. The rage just built up inside of me and I took it out on him. Well, later on, I realized that I felt real empty inside even though it felt real good at the time to beat the shit out of him. I just felt so dark and empty inside. And, well, I-I kinda feel that way right now. I know my Uncle Budd isn't-w-wasn't-a good person. But I guess two wrongs don't really make a right. Yeah, now he can't hurt me or any other kid out there. But doing what we did kinda stooped us down to his level in a way."

Stan slowly shifted so he was sitting beside Butters, resting his hands on his knees. "I see what you mean. But sometimes people are just evil. They do such awful things that they don't deserve to be treated with dignity. Raping children is one of those things. He obviously didn't have any respect for you or else he wouldn't have done those things."

"I know Uncle Budd didn't have no respect for me. But I learned that I gotta stand up for myself and have respect for myself. And part of that is doing the right thing, even if the wrong thing seems more tempting. Killing someone is never the right thing to do unless you're saving yourself or defending someone else. But tricking someone like that just doesn't seem right to me. You're not defending yourself then. If we had just done like they did on 'To Catch a Predator' it woulda been different. People would have known what a bad person he was. He could have been sent to prison where he really belonged. That would be real justice. Not cruel and unusual punishment. And now we are all murderers. That just puts ourselves into trouble."

Stan nodded. What was done was done, and there was turning back now. Maybe Butters was right. Maybe the boys had been so blinded by their desire to be vigilantes and enact their own revenge that they hadn't stopped to seriously consider what they should have done. Killing the man had been satisfying, but now they risked punishment themselves. Of course, if they were never caught, Stan wouldn't be able to say that he regretted what he had done, but he did not want to argue with Butters.

Butters, finished with his morality lesson, covered his head with the sleeping bag and rolled over to go back to sleep, the bag rustling beneath him. Stan lay down on the cold, hard floor beside him.

He lay awake for a long, long time.

...

When Stan finally awoke the next morning, he bolted up with a start. His phone said that it was already 11:30, and there had been no texts from any of his friends. Something was gnawing on the very edge of his mind, something that bothered him, but he couldn't remember what.

Butters lay still under the sleeping bag beside him. As he watched the boy sleeping peacefully, the events of last night came rushing back to him. He hadn't forgotten what had happened, exactly, but the memory had felt vague and hazy in his mind like a fading dream. But the sight of Butters' green sleeping bag reminded him of the lecture the other boy had given him, and suddenly everything had become much clearer.

That's when he remembered. On the phone last night, Cartman informed him that Kenny would be over after they had disposed of the corpse. Kenny, to his knowledge, had never made an appearance.

Fearing the worst, Stan immediately called Cartman's phone, his fingers shaky and errant on his own screen. He heard it ring two times before a heavy sigh answered the phone.

"What do you waaaaant, Staaaaan?" Asked Cartman in his whiny voice. It sounded like the fat boy would burst into tears at any moment, as though being interrupted while sleeping in on a Saturday was the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking. "Sorry to wake you," Stan replied, each word bitingly harsh. "I just woke up myself. But I was curious if you guys had managed to get rid of the body." His voice was low and quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping Butters.

Cartman scoffed. "Jesus, you must have no faith in me," he muttered in disbelief.

"I remembered that you said Kenny would drop by here after you guys got rid of Uncle Budd. He never showed up, and I thought that was a bad sign."

"Ooooh, yeah, Kenny," Cartman replied, in final understanding. "Well, it was pretty late once we dumped him in-I mean, when we finally got rid of the evidence. Kenny figured you guys would be asleep and didn't want to bother you, so he decided not to stop over."

"Oh, that makes sense I guess. I was just concerned something had happened."

"Yeah, yeah, it went fine. Then Kenny got hit by a car while we were walking home, and he died."

"Whoa, whoa, what?! Kenny is dead?!" Stan shrieked, alerting the once sleeping boy next to him. Butters kicked off the blankets quickly, sitting up next to Stan to listen intently.

"No, no, he's not dead, you dumbass," Cartman replied, laughing his head off. "Ah, man, your dumb ass actually believed that!"

"Dude, that's not funny. You really shouldn't joke about Kenny dying like that," Stan griped back to him, and Butters relaxed instantly. "So, it's all taken care of? No more evidence?" He whispered.

"Nope, no evidence whatsoever. You can thank yours truly for being so thorough. I won't go into specifics, since loose lips, stinky shits and all that. The fewer people that know about this, the better. Kenny and I are the only ones who know where the body is. Kyle doesn't even have a clue because he is a faggy Jew who didn't want to help."

Stan had a pretty good idea that Kenny and Cartman had dumped Budd, wrapped up in the tarp with cinder blocks tied to it, into Stark's Pond. But he didn't say anything.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the world's greatest psychopath," Stan replied, proudly. There was nothing wrong with stroking Cartman's ego once in a while. Sometimes his evilness had good intentions and led to beneficial outcomes.

"Why, thank you, Stan. I hope you enjoy your Saturday," Cartman said sweetly, obviously enjoying the praise. The two boys finished their conversation, and Stan turned to Butters, who lay snuggled in the sleeping bag again, looking up at Stan with an innocent, expectant face.

"So, everything is okay, right?" He asked quietly, almost sounding like a small child.

"Yep, Cartman handled everything, with Kenny's help. He said there was nothing left behind."

Butters smiled, his face relaxing in relief. But soon his expression turned fearful. "But what are Aunt Nellie and my mom and dad gonna think when Uncle Budd never comes home?"

There it was, a kink in their plan that they had never thought through. Stan said nothing as he wasn't quite sure what _to_ say. Obviously Budd's absence would not go unnoticed. "There is nothing that would implicate us, Butters. They're not just going to assume we had something to do with his disappearance."

Butters' lip trembled, and his eyes began to moisten with tears. "But Aunt Nellie will be sad. She'll miss him. She don't know nothin about Uncle Budd really being a bad person." Stan wasn't sure about how true that was. Could someone like Budd hide such a dark secret from his wife for years? Obviously they all had to have some idea, especially his parents, since Butters had admitted that to them already. Even if they had buried that truth and repressed it beyond comprehension. "They'll miss Uncle Budd so much that they'll investigate or something. With technology nowadays they'll find out what happened. They'll find our conversations. They'll know about him flying out here." He paused for a moment as a couple of tears rolled down his cheeks. "They'll think I was a little slut and wanted him to come out here. Even if they don't know about us killin' him. All they'll know is what a disgusting slut I am." Soon he was full on crying, sobs racking his body, a sight that reminded Stan of just yesterday morning in the bathroom. How long ago that had felt.

"Butters, come on, stop it," he commanded awkwardly, propped up on his elbows. "You're not a disgusting slut, you know that. So stop it."

"He said nobody would ever believe me. And that if they did they would just know what a slut I am." His breaths were shaky and he hiccupped as he talked.

"Stop it!" Stan yelled, not sure how else to stop Butters' rambling. "You are not a slut. I don't want to hear you saying that anymore!"

"He told me I was, and he told me that that's why he did those things to me. Because I was such a slut and he couldn't help it. It was my fault for bein' such a slut. And I know I musta been, 'cause my dad said so too."

Stan scowled, sitting up straight. "Dude, what the fuck? Your dad called you a slut?" He asked, his voice incredulous, furious.

"First when he didn't believe me he said I was one for makin' up such awful lies about my uncle. For even thinking up disgusting things like that. Then he said it again when we were fighting about me going to California with them. He must have known I wasn't lying then. He told me that my uncle wouldn't be so tempted if I wasn't one. That if I wasn't going to stop being a little slut then I should stay home so my uncle won't get carried away."

"Dude, you said that your parents didn't believe that he molested you."

Butters' lip quivered and he turned away. "Mom and Dad knew. My Mom found out when we were fighting. That's why they ungrounded me and gave me ice cream and didn't make me go with them."

Stan just sunk to the floor and shook his head, utterly confused. "Butters, you are not a slut. Your parents, and your Uncle Budd, just didn't want to admit that your uncle was a bad person. No one wants their brother, or themselves, to be a child molester. So when they do something wrong and hurt a kid they don't want to blame themselves. Telling you those things was his way of convincing himself he wasn't the bad guy. But he was, and you shouldn't feel guilty for what he did to you."

Butters blinked slowly and his tears began to stop as he processed what Stan was saying. Without a word in response, he turned over onto his side to face Stan and buried his face into his chest. Stan instantly wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back to soothe him.

...

"Butters? Your parents are here," Sharon said, knocking gently on the door. Butters was still snuggled up to Stan, sleeping peacefully. Stan had dozed off for a bit as well, but had been awake for about an hour. According to his phone, it was 1:30. He almost sat up in a panic, but did not want to wake the sleeping boy against his chest. The kid had to be exhausted; hell, Stan knew _he _was. Groaning, he carefully released himself from Butters' grasp, laying him gently down on the floor. He took a moment to compose himself, afraid to reveal any signs of guilt.

He pulled open the door to meet his mom. "What do they want?" He grumbled, figuring it was a good way to act like his normal self to hide the fact that he was practically shitting bricks.

"Have you guys been asleep this whole time?" She asked harshly, raising an eyebrow at Stan's messy hair, no doubt shocked to see such a drastic change in style. After a moment, a look of disapproval written all over her face, she slowly said, "Well, they would really like to talk to Butters. It's about his uncle."

Stan furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, hoping that he managed to look confused. "I'll get him up," he informed his mother, then gently closed the door. He heard her mutter something through the door and then her footsteps headed down the stairs. He padded gently over to Butters who had at some point kicked off the covers of his sleeping bag.

Just as he was about to kneel down to wake him, Butters mumbled quietly, "Don't make me face them, Stan, please."

"Butters, you have to. Otherwise they will think something is up." Stan's voice was urgent, but a hint of understanding slipped passed. "All you have to do is tell them you have no idea what they're talking about. Listen to what they have to say and then act dumb."

"Gee, I sure don't have to act it, now do I Stan?"

"Jesus Christ, let's go. If you refuse to see them you might as well hang a sign around your neck, telling everyone how guilty you are."

Butters opened his eyes and looked pleadingly up to Stan, who looked sternly down at him. Reluctantly, the boy sat up slowly and did his best to straighten his shirt. Stan offered a hand as he got to his feet, but he didn't take it. "D-do I look okay?" He asked, stuttering a little and knocking his fists against each other.

"Well, you look like you slept in your clothes all night," Stan replied honestly with a cocked eyebrow. "Come on, I will be right there with you. It'll be okay." He placed a hand on Butters' shoulder as they left the bedroom and bounded down the stairs.

Linda and Stephen were sitting on the couch in the living room, while Sharon and Randy stood off to the side. Linda's hair was a tangled mess and her mascara was running down her face, which was red and stained with tears. To be honest, seeing her like that wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. As soon as she saw her son walking down the stairs, she ran to the bottom to meet him. "Oh my God, Butters, you're okay!" She cried, her arms outstretched, and Butters raced down the rest of the way to fall into her arms. She kissed him again and again, petting him with her hands as though she had thought she would never get to hold him again. Stephen stood up from the couch as well, sighing in relief.

"W-wow, Mom and Dad, you two sure are happy to see me," Butters remarked, smiling. "But what are ya home so early for?"

Linda, still standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms wrapped protectively around her son, cast an uncomfortable look over her shoulder to Stephen who had the same expression. "We were worried about you, Butters, and we wanted to come home and make sure you were okay," Stephen said.

"Make sure I was okay? Oh geez, did I do something to get in trouble?" He asked softly, looking past his mother at Randy and Sharon.

"No, no, you're not in trouble at all, baby," his mother cooed, running a hand through his hair.

Stephen cleared his throat. "Butters, we would like to talk to you in private," he stated, although there was no hint of anger in his voice that Stan could detect. There was only concern. Still, Butters looked very nervous, and it was very difficult for Stan to look natural as well.

"W-well, okay, but, um, can Stan come too?" He asked shyly, so softly that it was almost inaudible.

Linda and Stephen shared another uncomfortable look, but she nodded. "That's alright, if you want Stan to come too then he can." She smiled sweetly at Stan, but it looked slightly forced. He tried to return the smile, and when Stephen led them into the kitchen, he followed them to the table and sat down.

"We will be right outside while you guys are talking," Sharon informed them, and Randy followed her out the back door to give them privacy.

Butters sat in between his parents, glancing back and forth between them nervously, wringing his small hands. Stan sat directly across from him, offering an encouraging smile whenever Butters looked his way.

"W-what's wrong? Stan's mom said it had something to do with Uncle Budd," he asked. He watched cautiously as Stephen extended an arm to place it on his shoulder.

"It is about your uncle, Butters," his father began with a sigh. Stan saw the blonde's eyes widen slightly, but then Butters quickly relaxed. "He left yesterday morning without telling anyone where he was going and he didn't come back. Your Aunt Nellie used the Find My Friends app on her phone and saw that he was actually here in South Park at around five o'clock last night, which would have been around six your time. We tried texting you and calling you, but your phone was shut off. I talked to Randy last night and he said that you guys came home around seven. We were so worried about you that we got on the next flight home so we could check on you. We got here as soon as we could."

"You guys were real worried about me?" Butters asked, legitimately surprised. "Why were you guys so worried about me, and not Uncle Budd?"

Stephen sighed and looked away from his son. "I think you know the answer to that, Butters." There was a long pause before he continued. "Do you know anything about your uncle's disappearance? Did he come see you, or try to contact you in any way?"

Stan cringed as he watched Butters burst into tears. The small blond quickly buried his face in his hands, and his mother and father were quick to attempt to console him. Stephen rubbed his back gently as Linda stroked his arms and kissed his head, reassuring him through her own dried tears that everything was okay, that they loved him, that he could tell them anything. Stan felt awkward, as though he was intruding on a private moment.

"You know you can tell us anything," Stephen said, and although he sounded genuine Stan couldn't help but think bitterly of when Butters had sobbed in his arms, telling him about how he had told his parents the horrible truth and how they refused to believe him, even punishing him. He thought of how just a couple of hours ago, Butters had told him that his own father had called him a slut for what had happened to him. "Did your uncle hurt you or try to hurt you?"

Butters shakily drew in a deep breath as he pulled his hands away from his face, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He stared ahead, almost right through Stan, and took a moment to respond. "He wanted to hurt me, yes," he began, and Linda's hand quickly flew to her mouth as fresh tears began to fall. "But he couldn't get me because of… Some Puerto Rican Guy."

Stephen and Linda shared a very confused look, and after a moment both seemed to understand at the same time. Their eyes widened as they both slightly backed away from their son.

"It was… Some… Puerto Rican Guy…" Linda said slowly, sounding dazed and disconnected from the world. Her eyes appeared blank and lifeless, and the tears abruptly stopped.

Stan finally understood the reference, remembering the time when Linda believed that she had killed Butters when she found out that Stephen was sleeping around with random dudes. They had tried to cover up the "murder" by lying to everyone about Some Puerto Rican Guy who had abducted Butters. Stan thought that the reference was genius.

Stephen stared down at the floor, a soft melancholy expression on his face. Stan almost felt bad for the man, remembering that Butters had mentioned that Budd was his father's brother. Stephen's eyes then lifted to his son's, who were focused on the sorrow on his face, apology written all over the small boy's own. "As long as you are okay," he said finally, his voice cracking slightly.

"Y-yeah, I'm alright I guess," Butters whispered, and Stephen suddenly scooped him up and placed him on his lap, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Butters flinched and sat stiffly in his arms for a moment, then let himself relax into the hug.

Linda blinked slowly, finally returning to Earth as she observed the rare tender moment between father and son. "We'll make sure that you don't get into any trouble, Butters. Only the Puerto Rican Guy," she said, although her voice still had that dreamy tone to it.

Stephen nodded, and a stray tear slid down his cheek. "I love you, son," he said softly, stroking Butters' hair. "I'm sorry."

"I-I love you too, Dad," Butters said back, looking up at him with a wide smile.

Stan quietly pushed his chair away from the table, deciding to leave the family alone to enjoy their private moment. He made his way out the back door, joining his parents at the picnic table. He heard their hushed whispers and how those whispers stopped as he exited the house.

"Is everything okay?" Sharon asked him, placing a gentle hand on Stan's when he sat next to her at the table.

"Yeah, everything is fine, I guess," Stan replied, shrugging his shoulders, feeling a deep sense of relief. However, he would be lying if he said he didn't also feel a bit confused and concerned as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks again so much for reading! I apologize for a less than stellar chapter (yeah I admit it kinda sucked), as well as the fact that it took me forever to update, but I hope that you all enjoyed reading anyway. I really appreciate you all reading and leaving feedback; writing really is my passion and you have no idea how happy I get when I read your reviews!
> 
> P.S. I cannot wait for the new season to start tomorrow! Lol


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah it has been well over 3 months since I've updated this, and an entire season of South Park has come and gone since I posted the last chapter. I've been sitting on this for 3 (maybe 4?) months and I figured the last 8000 or so words of this story might as well see the light of day. I didn't want to leave people hanging anymore (if anyone even cares anymore at this point lol). There is one more chapter of this that I'm currently reviewing and revising, and hopefully that one will be published before another season of this show is over... lmfao

That night, the Marshes invited the Stotches to stay for dinner, and the tension became so thick that one could probably cut it with one of the steak knives they were all using for dinner. Butters and Stan exchanged uncomfortable glances as they all sat down to eat. Randy tried to quell the tense atmosphere with some so-awful-they're-good jokes, which earned him a few polite chuckles but not much more. Sharon kept very quiet, her arms crossed over her chest, and Stan just knew that she was going to take this time to confront Butters’ parents, as she had said she would. 

It couldn't have been easy to start a confrontation like that; it was never an easy conversation to have, much less when the little family seemed as happy as the Walton family. Butters told them all about the fun he'd had staying over, and how they had a cookout and roasted smores on the first night. How Sharon and Randy sure seemed to want to spoil the heck out of him. How Stan was a really good host and even let him sleep in his bed a couple of times. His parents seemed to enjoy listening to Butters talk animatedly about the fun he had been having. 

“Oh, Butters, we're so glad you've been having such a good time,” Linda gushed. “I almost feel bad about cutting our trip so short.” 

“Well, if it's okay with Sharon and Randy, maybe you can still stay here for a couple more days,” Stephen proposed. 

“Oh, that would be no problem at all,” Sharon began, almost slamming her fork down onto her plate, causing a loud clattering sound. “In fact, we would just love to keep him.” Her tone dripped of bitterness and she crossed her arms again, clearly unable to contain herself any longer. 

The vibe of the table instantly turned chillier than it already had been. Butters’ eyes widened as he inspected his parents’ faces for their reaction. Randy glanced warningly at Sharon who was now openly glaring at the other parents. Stephen put a gentle hand on his wife's arm. 

“Is there a  _ problem _ , Sharon?” He asked darkly, returning her sharp glare. 

“As a matter of fact, I do have a problem,” she snarled back, sitting back in her chair, arms still crossed. “And that problem does not lie with your son. He is the sweetest, happiest child I have ever met in my whole life. I do wonder just how in the world he got to be that way with parents like you.” 

Linda shrieked in horror as she dropped her fork to her plate, hand flying to her mouth, fork clanging as it fell. Stephen's hard face did not falter. “Who are you to criticize the way we choose to raise our son?” He hissed at her. 

Sharon scoffed, about to begin a tirade, and was interrupted by Butters who roughly pushed himself away from the table. “I'm leaving,” he announced, barging for the door. As his small hand reached the doorknob, he looked shyly back to Stan for a mere second, before turning the knob and rushing out of the house. Stan hesitated, then quickly followed him out the door without so much as a word. 

Stan dashed after Butters, whose pace had slowed after he had made it a couple of blocks down. He caught up to the blond boy, panting a little once he was at his side. Butters didn't acknowledge him, and they walked in silence until they'd reached Stark's Pond. 

Butters plopped down on the bench by the water, and Stan quietly sat beside him. The blue expanse above sunk lower to the horizon, erasing the orange sky from sight, seemingly pushing it deep into the water. For a few minutes, both boys were quiet, staring out at the still, gentle water together. 

“Do ya think my Uncle Budd's down there somewhere?” Butters asked casually, breaking the silence. 

Stan smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “He very well could be. Where else would Cartman and Kenny think to dump a body?” 

“To some farm maybe. Apparently if you cut up a body into a bunch of tiny pieces then pigs will eat the whole thing. Apparently that's how the Sicilian Mafia would get rid of their victims.”

Stan raised a shocked eyebrow. “Dude, I don't want to know how the fuck you know that. You've been hanging around Cartman way too much.” 

“I googled it when we were trying to decide how to kill him. I thought, how are we going to get rid of the body though? But I didn't say anything to Eric about it, so who knows if he knew about it. But I don't think that's how they got rid of my uncle. I just feel like he is down there.” Butters stared down into the water now, as though he was trying to spot his uncle's corpse. A chill ran through Stan as he envisioned Uncle Budd suddenly thrusting out of the water, lurching toward the pair, and quickly dragging them below the pond's surface. 

Still, he tried not to think about their murder victim lying at the bottom of the pond, bundled up in the tarp with cinder blocks attached to keep him from rising to the surface. His body riddled with stab wounds. His own severed cock shoved deep down his throat, choking on it for eternity. Destined to lie there forever. 

“It's getting a little late, Butters. It'll be dark soon and it's fucking freezing. Maybe we should head back,” Stan suggested. The cold, nippy air was beginning to get to him, causing goosebumps to sprout on his arms.

“I don't want to head back. My parents will be awful sore now and I will have to go back home with them, and I don't really want to go home yet. But I think your mom wasn't too nice with the way she handled that.” Butters pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well, she is just worried about your wellbeing. She thinks your parents are abusive and that you don't deserve to be treated that way. So she doesn't want to send you home because she knows what will happen.” 

“Well, I love my mom and dad, and sometimes they can be a little difficult but I know that they love me. They just do what they think is best for me. I like your parents a whole lot but my mom and dad are still my parents. And they came all this way to make sure I was okay. And they ain't even mad that my Uncle Budd is dead.” 

The two boys paused their conversation when they heard footsteps rustling through the grass. They turned to see all four adults who were now looking very guilty. Linda stumbled over to Butters and wrapped him tightly into a warm hug. The other adults stood in front of the bench facing the boys. 

“What's going on?” Stan asked cautiously, eying the adults suspiciously. 

“Your parents had a long talk with us and we have decided that we have some work to do,” Stephen began softly. “Linda and I need to change some things before we can be better parents. Butters, it's time for us all to go home. We really need to discuss things.” 

Butters frowned and looked pleading at his mom. She gently stroked his hair and patted his shoulder to get up. “It'll be okay, baby. We already have your stuff in the car. You can stay with the Marshes again sometime very soon, we promise.” 

Butters stood up from the bench and turned to follow his parents who were heading back to their car. He then turned back to look up over his shoulder at Sharon and Randy, with pitiful puppy dog eyes. They forced themselves to look away, and Stephen trudged back to gently pick up his son and carry him away. 

“Bye, Stan,” he called back, sorrow and longing coloring his voice. Stan waved back to him and followed his parents to their car, suddenly feeling very lonely.

Stan stared solemnly out the window, watching the pond and the Stotches’ car shrink in the distance. For a few moments the car was very quiet. Randy's eyes looked at Stan in the rearview mirror. “Well, son, we did have a long talk with them. They seem to understand that they aren't handling things the way that they should. They promised to all go to family counseling and parenting classes. Stephen even seemed to accept the idea of going to anger management classes.” 

Stan rolled his eyes, but did not say anything. He continued staring out the window as rain began to fall, raindrops rolling down the window, pattering against the roof. 

  
...  
  


His bedroom felt very quiet and lonely in Butters' absence. He lay on his bed, fuming, questioning his parents' reasoning. How in the world had they gone from "we can't let those monsters take this innocent child back" to "well they said they would change so we might as well blindly assume that things will be perfect"? They were probably beating the shit out of Butters right now. The thought sickened him, made him tremble in anger, made him want to punch a wall. Obviously he needed his Super Best Friend, his level-headed voice of reasoning. He knew it was getting late, but he pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Kyle anyway. He rushed down the stairs, past his parents' questioning glances, and went out the door to the Broflovski house. 

"Hey Stan," Kyle chipperly greeted from his desk as Stan entered his bedroom and flopped onto his bed. "Where's Butters?" 

"He's back home," Stan muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "Back home with his parents." 

"Oh," Kyle responded, invested in the homework on his computer. "They came back early."

"Yeah. When his uncle never made it back home they came here to make sure Butters was okay. He let it spill to them that we killed him, but I guess they took it well. Then my mom confronted them about how she believes that they're abusing him and I guess they had a big long talk, and they ended up taking Butters home." 

Kyle took a moment to respond, spinning around in his chair to face Stan. "So when his uncle left and didn't come back, they flew all the way out here to check on Butters?" 

"Yeah, I guess they looked up his location and it said he was here in South Park. But anyway, I'm worried about Butters. I guess they promised my parents that they were going to work on their parenting technique but I still don't trust them. I have a feeling they're probably 'grounding' him right now." 

Kyle pursed his lips. "Well, if you're so worried about it, why don't we go over to his house and make sure that he's okay? We'll just tell them we want to check on him, and that we won't take no for an answer." 

Stan sat up and nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. Maybe we should get a hold of Cartman and Kenny and tell them to meet us over there, just in case." He pulled his phone out to text them. 

Kyle cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. "I just hope it isn't a bad idea to invite Cartman along." 

The four boys soon met up outside the Stotch residence. Stan felt a chill ripple through him as memories of the last time they all stood outside this door, planning a murder, flashed through his mind. The others waited for him to ring the doorbell. He bit his lip as he pushed the button, hands forming into fists at his sides as he planned a threatening monologue if Butters' parents tried to turn them away. 

Moments later, Linda slowly opened the door, unsurprisingly appearing disheveled. Dark streaks ran down her cheeks from her mascara, and her hair was a mess. "Oh, hello boys," she said, her voice shaking a little. She wiped away a lone tear as she greeted them. 

Stan relaxed his fists. "Uh, hi, we wanted to come talk to Butters," he said, looking down at the welcome mat before him. 

"Okay, you can come in," she said, stepping aside to allow the four to file in. "But you will have to wait a bit. He is having a talk with his father in his study." 

"I'm pretty sure I know what that means," Stan snapped as he barged into the house and marched to where he was pretty sure Stephen's study was. His hands quickly balled into fists again as anger flashed through him, and the others followed close behind. "I'm pretty sure this is it," Stan said determinedly, slamming a door open. 

"Pretty sure this is a closet, Stan," Cartman remarked as all that appeared were cleaning products, coats, a vacuum, and things of that nature. 

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Stan grumbled as he slammed the door shut again. He stomped over to the next door, and again slammed it open and trudged inside, ready to kick some ass if his assumptions were proven true. 

They found Butters sitting on his father's lap in his large armchair, a photo album laying across them. "Stan? Guys? What are you doing here?" Butters asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. 

"You getting the shit beat out of you yet?" Cartman asked tactlessly. Kyle elbowed him in his large stomach and he let out a shocked grunt. 

"N-no, not yet," Butters said quietly, glancing cautiously up at his father's face. 

Stephen gently patted his shoulder. "Don't worry about that, son," he replied softly with a sad smile. Butters wearily smiled back. Stephen looked over to the other boys. "I am just having an important conversation with Butters. I'm not… punishing him. I'm telling him all about his uncle. My brother." 

Stan looked intently at the man before him. His eyes did look a little red and puffy as though he had been crying, and there was a tiredness weighing down his face. When he heard the word "brother" he felt a twinge of guilt in his chest, and he exchanged a look with Kyle that confirmed his friend felt the same way. 

"We're sorry about your… brother, Mr. Stotch," Kyle said sincerely. 

"Yeah, sorry he was a fucked up pedophile," Cartman chimed in, then whined after Kenny smacked him in the back of the head. "Stoooop, Kinney!" 

"Shut  _ up _ , Cartman!" Kyle hissed at him. 

Stephen and Butters shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Stan turned to his friends, glaring at them. "Guys, knock it off. Let's go. I think we should let them have their privacy, especially if you're going to be so immature," he growled at them. 

"No, wait," Stephen said as the boys turned to leave. "If you boys want to, you can stay and listen. I know you were all involved in what happened. And I am not mad at any of you. It is a very difficult conversation, but I want to explain myself, explain why it took so long for me to listen." He gestured to the couch nearby, but after a moment, Stan sat down on the floor in front of the chair, and Kyle and Kenny followed his lead. Cartman decided to take the couch instead, sighing contentedly as he stretched out. 

Stephen took a deep breath before opening the photo album. It was rather large and looked very old and worn, but the pages inside looked sparsely filled. Inside were mostly low quality Polaroids alongside a few school pictures and some drawings. Butters climbed down to the floor with the album so that the others could see. 

Stan marveled at the pictures before him. Most of them were of a very young Stephen, younger than the boys even, while some were of his older brother Budd. A few, but not many, were of the two of them together. "Aww, you were such a cute, happy little kid!" Kyle gushed as he pointed to a picture of a small Stephen jumping through a mud puddle. Stan guessed that he couldn't have been more than four or five there. And he  _ was _ very cute. He looked a lot like Butters, with a similar hairstyle, although his hair was a light brown, was longer on top, and buzzed on the sides and in the back. In some of the pictures he had Butters' signature smile that somehow went halfway up his face. For some reason that really tugged at Stan. 

Stephen stayed quiet as he let the boys thumb through the pages of the photo album, catching a glimpse of a world that they knew nothing about. A tiny Stephen with chubby cheeks and a round belly wading in a plastic kiddie pool. A blurry picture looking up at a laughing Budd who was putting training wheels on a small bicycle. A scribbled drawing of the Stay Puft Marshmallow from Ghostbusters, titled "Buddy as a gron up love Stephen." A school photo of a middle school Budd, who was quite photogenic with a handsome smile, but with strikingly sad eyes. A giggling Stephen, maybe around their age now, kneeling down to pet a small beagle puppy. Christmas morning, Stephen unwrapping a large action figure that Stan wasn't familiar with, a wide smile on his face, with a tight-lipped, dark-faced woman Stan recognized as Butters' grandma sitting on the couch behind him. A shaky photo of Budd tossing wrapping paper to the side with a brand new Polaroid camera in his hand. 

Suddenly, Kyle picked up the photo album as he closely inspected a picture of Stephen blowing out 5 birthday candles. "Wait," he began. "You have a huge bruise on your cheek in this picture." He pointed to the picture and held it up for Stephen, who immediately looked away. 

"Oh, well, I really didn't have a very good childhood," he quickly replied. "My mother gave me that bruise when she caught me snooping in her closet for my birthday presents. Then she took all of the presents back to the store. I still remember everything that she got for me. A Gameboy and the Ghostbusters toys that I'd been asking for forever. And she didn't get me anything else." 

Kenny's muffled voice declared that that was  _ fucked up _ . 

"You were just turning  _ five _ and she hit you and didn't give you anything for your birthday because you were peeking at your presents?" Kyle asked incredulously. "Ike and I did that once around Hanukkah. Our parents just reminded us that we had ruined the best part about opening presents, the surprise. They weren't even that mad about it. They even went out and bought one new present for each of us so that we had something to surprise us." 

Stephen shrugged. "That's just how my mother was. I was used to it and didn't know any different. I just felt lucky that she let me have my party at all after that. I didn't have anything to open at my birthday party, but I remember Budd took all of the money he had been saving and bought me the Ghostbusters action figures. And he felt bad that he couldn't afford the Gameboy. But that was the kind of brother he was; he was always looking out for me." 

Butters climbed up into his father's lap again, snuggling into his chest. Stephen wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. Stan slid the photo album over so that he could get a better look at that picture. The relaxed, happy expression on the abused child's face revealed that moments like that were likely not uncommon. The thought of a mother leaving a bruise like that on her child's face before his birthday party, or ever, for any reason at all, made his heart ache in sympathy. For that to be any child's normal had to be among the saddest facts of the universe. 

"What about your dad?" Stan asked when his eyes stumbled upon a photograph of a kind-looking man who greatly resembled Stephen holding him when he looked to be just under a year old. "Why did he let your mom treat you that way?" 

"My father left when I was a year and a half old," Stephen replied. "My mother was extremely difficult to get along with, and he decided he just couldn't take it anymore. He still desperately wanted to be in our lives, but she wouldn't let him. She did everything she could to keep us away from him. She lied to us and told us that he hated us and didn't care if we were alive or dead. I didn't know the truth until Budd told me when were adults, after my father had long since passed away. It’s a very long story."

"Jesus Christ, who is cutting onions in here?" Cartman remarked suddenly, defensively and accusingly. 

"You really look a lot like your dad did," Kyle observed. "You guys could have been twins."

Stephen smiled sadly. "I used to get that a lot. Especially from my mother, but I'm sure you can imagine that she wasn't very nice about it."

Stan's eyes drifted across the pages of the photo album, and found that they were drawn to the picture of the boy's bruised cheek. He thought back to Butters who backed away from Sharon's comforting touch, as though he wasn't expecting love but pain. He wondered if that meant that Stephen had hit Butters like that. A bit of his sympathy for the man dissipated but the ache in his heart lingered. 

"My father wasn't the only man that she drove away," Stephen continued. "Somehow, she landed many different boyfriends over the years. Most of them were very strict and violent, just as she was. One of them broke my arm when I was four years old, and she told everyone that I had fallen down the stairs after leaving toys lying around. She would tell me that it was my fault and that I deserved it for talking back to him. It was always my fault. Budd was the one who ended up taking care of me then, at just ten years old, because my mother refused to help me with my cast. 

"When I was six she started seeing this guy named Larry. At first Larry was the greatest stepfather we had ever had. He spoiled us, told us he loved us, and never refrained from giving us hugs that our mother never handed out. But Larry was sick just like your uncle was sick, Butters. After a few months, his affections started going farther than they ever should have. But Budd was smart and picked up on where things were going. He was used to sacrificing himself to protect me; he was older and tougher than me. When our mother would lash out at something I had done, he would step in and take the blame to protect me, even after she would beat the shit out of him. Budd threatened to call the cops on Larry if he ever touched me. Larry just laughed at him, saying that going to the cops would land the two of us in foster care, most likely with us being split up, and how could he protect me then? I remember Budd telling him that he could do whatever he wanted to him if he promised to leave me alone. And so Larry did, and Budd was too scared to tell anyone as he had basically granted Larry permission. 

"But Larry didn't keep his promise. Budd wasn't always home, and Larry would take advantage of the times when he was gone." Stan inspected Stephen's face and focused on the thousand yard stare that was present. For an uncomfortable amount of time, all was quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard. Finally Stephen snapped out of it, shaking his head. "I'm really sorry, I'm sure you all didn't need to hear all of that. But I know what you have gone through, Butters. And I know that your uncle did too. My brother was my hero in a dark and lonely childhood and to hear that he had been doing something so evil was very difficult and impossible to comprehend. For a long time I couldn't admit that to myself. It was easier to convince myself that it wasn't true than to face the fact that the only person I ever really trusted could do such harm. Now I realize that lying to myself did nothing but hurt you. Lying to myself allowed him to continue to abuse you. And I have failed in my duties as a father to protect you. I'm not begging for your forgiveness. I just want you to know that it is not your fault and you deserved so much better than what I gave you. I am so very sorry and I will understand if you hate me for the rest of my life."

It was again deathly quiet. Stan stood up and motioned for the others to leave. Kyle and Kenny reluctantly stood up, and Cartman followed as they turned to leave. Kyle solemnly turned to face Stephen and gently whispered, "Thank you for sharing your story." The others nodded, then they all filed out of the room to leave the father and son alone. 

"Fuck, you guys," Cartman said, breaking the silence as they headed out of the house. Linda sat alone on the sofa and silently watched as the boys left. 

The four of them stopped on the sidewalk in front of the house, each of them unsure of what to say. The night air was cold, windy, and uninviting, spreading a chill throughout Stan's body. They glanced around at each other, and one by one announced that they should be heading home. Stan asked Kyle if he wanted to come stay the night with him, so the pair first headed to the Broflovski house to get Kyle's things together before heading back to Stan's. 

The two boys had been very quiet until they were settled into Stan's bed, both very exhausted and ready for sleep. Kyle curled up onto his side as Stan lay staring at the ceiling. He just had the feeling that on a night like tonight he would find sleep eluding him. 

"Kyle, are you still awake?" He asked, knowing that while his best friend often seemed to fall asleep quickly, that he was most likely still awake.

"Yeah," Kyle replied groggily, giving Stan the impression that his wakefulness would not last much longer. 

"What do you think about what Butters' dad was talking about?" He asked, unsure of how to put his own thoughts into words. 

Kyle was quiet for a moment, and Stan worried that he was already fast asleep. "Well, I feel very, very sorry for him," Kyle finally replied. 

"I mean, I do too, but at the same time I don't know if I should have sympathy for him because of the way he has treated Butters." Stan went on to tell Kyle about how the blond boy had thought Sharon was going to hit him. "So it makes me think that he must have hit Butters like that before for him to expect that. It is sad that his grandma and those guys used to hurt his dad but that doesn't make it okay for his dad to hurt him like that." 

"You're right, it doesn't," Kyle said, rolling onto his back beside Stan. "It's not fair that he was abused as a kid, but it wouldn't be fair to Butters either. That's how he grew up, though, and that was what was normal to him. Maybe something like this will finally get through to him and he will change." 

Stan shrugged. "I hope so. I don't want to see Butters getting hurt anymore. He's been through enough." 

Kyle nodded, reaching down to the floor to pick up his phone. He typed up a long message then set his phone back down. "There. I told him basically to let us know if his dad starts to abuse him again so that we can do something about it." He rolled back over onto his side. "His dad did look very sorry. And I do feel very bad for him. To live his whole life looking up to someone, in a lonely and dangerous world, only to have that person end up hurting someone you love. That can't be easy for anyone to comprehend. Night, Stan." 

"Night, Kyle," Stan said, turning away from Kyle onto his own side. The pictures he had seen earlier swirled in his head, and dark scenes unfolded from the stories the pictures told. An angry mother slapping her young son so hard across the face that he toppled to the floor. A big brother counting up his savings to make sure his little brother had presents to open for his birthday. A man with crazed eyes and a large hands gripping a small, terrified boy's arm. A smiling creep slinking into a bedroom late at night. 

The bright eyes and wide smile fading away into a dead, empty stare as the boy grew older. Stephen, now fully grown, hitting Butters out of frustration as he had never learned any other way to discipline a child. A child who reminded him too much of himself. 

Stan buried his face deeper into the pillow, trying to block out the dark, depressing thoughts, slowly drifting off to a restless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for hanging on with me for this long. I hope this wasn't TOO unrealistic; I ultimately thought that if anything Butters deserves parents that love him, and I wanted to provide an explanation as to why his dad handled things the way he did that didn't amount to him simply being a "monster." (SPOILER ALERT: Butters does end up staying with Stan's family, at least for the time being lol) As always thank you so much for your feedback and I would love to hear your honest thoughts on this latest chapter. The final chapter should hopefully be up very soon! 
> 
> Also, shoutout to my friend Jake for reading this story (despite not knowing much at all about South Park) and encouraging me to finally post these last chapters; if it wasn't for him they may never have seen the light of day lmfao

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are endlessly encouraging and appreciated <3


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